Blood Is Thicker
by Christine-ME
Summary: For Hard Target villian fans: Pik Van Cleaf encounters a mysterious woman searching for Emil Fouchon. Rated R for adult situations, some violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter One**

It was a cool, misty evening in New Orleans. The light was fading but there was still enough left for Madeleine Rourke to watch the men in black coats enter the seedy apartment building across the way. She was seated at the back-most corner of a small outdoor café. Her dark brown hair was bluntly cut just below her chin, and she used the placement of it as well as her coffee mug to occlude her face. She was worried that they were on to her, that they knew she had been following them. They had come to this place several times before, always together, though she was only interested in confronting one of the men. She knew they would turn up here sooner or later, and when she saw Emil Fouchon leave the building alone and linger at a nearby newsstand, apparently waiting for his companion, she knew she would finally have her chance to speak with him.

Resolute, she stood, straightened herself, and paused for a moment, gathering her courage. She was nervous, but wanted to appear confident to Fouchon. But the moment she made her first step toward him, from behind, an arm clamped around her waist, and a hand around her mouth. She was swept around the corner into the ally before anyone else in the café noticed something was amiss. She struggled against his strong, steel grip, but to no avail. Halfway down the ally, her captor turned her to face him, pinning her against the brick wall with his arm and the hand still over her mouth. She continued to struggle, fruitlessly, then he leaned in close to her face. His dark, stormy eyes pierced through her and pinned her soul to the wall as surely as his strength pinned her body. "You're going to be a good girl, now, aren't you, and keep quiet. Yes?" His deep, caressing voice and piercing stare stilled her, and she nodded, eyes wide.

The man slid his hand from her mouth and studied her face, then reached up again to run the back of his hand down her cheek. "Such a pretty girl," he mused. She flinched away from him, angry now at this spoiler of her plans. "What do you want!?" she spat out at him. He stood back, incredulously, raised his eyebrows, and chuckled a silent "ooh" at her boldness. She made to dart toward the mouth of the ally, but his warning glare was all it took to pin her to the wall again. She had been so close, and then this....this...._this_ was the man who accompanied Fouchon all those times! Dark hair, silent, black coat. . . it was him. She hadn't paid him much notice before, focusing instead on Fouchon. But now, staring into his features framed by his collar, how could she have missed his compelling presence? The man saw recognition in her eyes and asked," Are you a reporter, or a journalist of some sort?" Confusion clouded her eyes. "_What kind of question is that?_" she thought, and shook her head nervously. His voice, his indistinguishable accent, his entire being unnerved her.

The man leaned very close to her ear, and warned her, "A young, pretty thing like you shouldn't go looking for trouble. It can only get you...hurt." Madeleine would not be bullied, and she glared at him saying, "This is none of your concern. I have no business with you." She tilted her chin up in defiance, "I will do as I see fit." Hearing some commotion, they both turned to notice that a small crowd on onlookers had gathered at the mouth of the ally, wondering if they were witnessing a mugging, or a rape, or something. He stood back slightly again and finished, "If I catch you tailing us again, believe me, you and I will have a most interesting and thorough interrogation." With that, he strode through the ally, shouldering his way through the small crowd, and out of sight. Heart pounding, she leaned back against the wall and thought, "_What was that all about? Trouble? What does this mean?"_ Dejected, having lost her chance with Fouchon, she made her way back to the corner table, shooing away the concerned onlookers, and sipped her coffee, brooding her next step.

"Try not to keep me waiting like that again, won't you Pik?" Fouchon glanced toward his passenger in the Jaguar, slightly annoyed. Pik Van Cleaf nodded silently. He kept the encounter to himself, preferring to have a little more information before he reported anything to Fouchon. "_So, her business was with Fouchon_," he mused. "_And what business would that be?"_ He was curious about the spirited young troublemaker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Two**

Two weeks later Pik Van Cleaf sipped a savory brandy in the study as he reviewed the files of several "volunteers." Their latest client, Mr. Wintreib, would be there in two hours, and Pik and Fouchon spoke in muted tones, discussing details of the meeting. Fouchon preferred that at least one of them remain in-house while the maid and laundry service performed their duties, not trusting any outsider, let alone several, alone in a house which held so many secrets. This was such a day, and the maids went about their business silently and almost invisibly. But a familiar face on the periphery of Pik's vision pulled his attention out of the file, and he excused himself from Fouchon's presence. Fouchon nodded without lifting his eyes.

He saw Madeleine dusting and cleaning a set of ivory figures which adorned a lovely carved oak table in the corner of the parlor. Stone-faced, he appeared silently behind her and said, "Pardon me, miss, but haven't we met somewhere before?" She was startled, nearly dropped the figure she was holding, and spun around, mouth wide in surprise. Pik, amused, pushed her chin up with his index finger to close her mouth. She recovered, and narrowed her eyes at him, his sarcasm not lost on her. "No, sir, I believe you are mistaken,"she replied, and turned to continue her work. Pik caught her arm and turned her toward him again and said, "Not a journalist, then, but perhaps a professional thief, checking out the lay of the place?" "Please, sir," she pleaded, looking around, "we aren't supposed to speak with the clients. And you're supposed to pretend we're even not here. You should know that."

Just then, as if on cue, Madeleine's supervisor Mrs. Lees, a stout and humorless presence, approached the pair asking, "Mr. Van Cleaf, is there a problem?" Simultaneously Fouchon appeared out of the study calling, "Pik, I need you in here." Pik coolly turned without a word and headed back toward the study. He heard Mrs. Lees scold the girl, "Maddie, I thought you understood our policy..." and the scolding continued out of earshot. "_Maddie, is it..."_ thought Pik as he settled himself back into the study's couch, and waited for Fouchon to speak.

"_Pik Van Cleaf, is it..."_ Madeleine thought as she lay back on her small bed, fingers locked behind her head. She wondered if she would have a job the next time she reported to work. Van Cleaf could easily have let Mrs. Lees know they had a stalker in their employ. But he didn't seem as if he were angry, only curious and even a bit amused. Still, there was a chance, but she wouldn't know for two more days when she would join her crew at the maid service to work the Fouchon mansion again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Three**

Curious, indeed, is what he was. Pik had done some stalking himself over the next few days, Madeleine Rourke, was her name as he learned from the maid service. She was living in a sorry, seedy-looking apartment building not far from where they had had their encounter in the ally. She never had company, and only went out for groceries and for walks, always alone. He didn't believe she offered any threat to himself or Fouchon, but he decided not to underestimate her. She was clever, stubborn, spirited... "_And lovely," _Pik thought, then chided himself at his train of thought But still, there was something about her that drew his eyes to her against his will.

He hadn't said anything to Mrs. Lees or Fouchon, interested to see when she would play her hand and what that hand would be. Over the following weeks, he tried to be at the mansion whenever he could when he knew the maid service would be there. He kept a close watch on her, and when Fouchon wasn't there, he practically followed her everywhere, asking her questions, talking to her, and actually drawing a scolding from the usually proper Mrs. Lees for interfering with the girl's work.

Her reasons for wanting to meet with Fouchon remained a mystery to Pik. He thought that perhaps she would try to enamor herself to him, become his mistress perhaps, to better her financial circumstances. She lived in a tenement, after all, and working as a maid could not be all that rewarding or lucrative. He hoped that was not her goal, knowing it would only cause her pain. Fouchon had little tolerance for women, only to attend to his physical needs. He was not cruel to them, at least not physically, but nor was he anywhere near kind. Her bobbed hair and freckled nose gave her sweetness which complimented her fire and spirit, and he shuddered at the thought of Fouchon ruining any of it, any of her.

One morning Fouchon, frustrated at the overflowing bin of shredded paper spilling under the shredder, stepped just outside the study door. Pik heard him bark to someone, "You, yes you. Get this bin out of here and empty it." A moment later, Madeleine appeared at the study door, wide-eyed and pale even through her ivory skin. She stood, wringing her hands, glancing from Fouchon to the bin, an uncertain look in her eyes. Pik observed she opened and closed her mouth several times, as if she wished to speak, but then changed her mind. Fouchon saw her actions, or lack thereof, and growled with malicious, deliberate cruelty, "Empty. The. Trash. Could you possibly be too stupid to understand what I said? You're the maid for God's sake!" He said aloud to no one, "God, where do they get these people!?" He kicked the bin, and the action broke Madeleine's stupor. Tears filling her eyes, she quickly gathered spilled paper into the bin, and without a word scampered out of the room with it. Fouchon continued to fume over having to be bothered so much over something so common as a paper bin, and Pik clenched his jaw, wondering for a moment what Fouchon would do if he punched him in the teeth.

Madeleine was outside near the pool, leaning against the wall trying to regain her composure while frills of shredded paper blew out from the bin next to her. She cursed herself for acting so stupidly, but Fouchon calling her into the room was so unexpected and she was completely unprepared. Still, he had been so condescending, so cruel. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall for a moment and finally achieved a state of calmness and was prepared to go back to work. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes and saw Pik making his way toward her.

She straightened up, and thoughts of the last few weeks flooded her mind... Van Cleaf hadn't gotten her fired, but she almost wished he had. Over time he had become her tormentor, as well as her desire, distracting her from her purpose. Any time she had tried to catch Fouchon alone, Van Cleaf would show up with an unexpected small task elsewhere. And worse, most of the time he would follow her, taunting her with innuendoes that he would soon find out what she was up to. Or sometimes he would simply point out sculptures or tapestries or other works of art and tell her about them. Once he commented how much lovelier she had looked in the café with her hair down, as opposed to having it pinned up when she was working. Often he would simply ask a variety of seemingly unrelated questions, but she knew he was trying to catch her off guard, or catch her in a lie. And he was always "finding" a fleck of dust or an eyelash on her face, and would caress it away with a stroke of his warm fingers. Those were the most overwhelming moments, because she more often than not would find herself looking deeply into his eyes.

One time, he had come up silently behind her and slowly ran his finger down along the scar on the back of her neck. The long white mark began above her hairline and disappeared into the collar of her dress, but Van Cleaf's touch ended where her dress began. "And just where did you get this nasty gash?" he inquired, concern in his voice. Mrs. Lees appeared and warned him with a stern look, and he mocked obedience and walked away. She also gave a warning glance to Madeleine, even though it was obvious Mr. Van Cleaf was the one harassing the girl, and not the other way around. She had warned her girls enough times that fraternizing with the clients would only get them a broken heart as well as dismissed from the agency.

So diligent was his pursuit, he had almost caught here the previous week stashing some of her belongings in one on the unoccupied guest rooms. Madeleine had decided to hide a change of clothes and a small cosmetic bag in the back of one the guest room closets. She did not want to appear for the first "real" time in front of Fouchon in her maid uniform dress. She stammered an excuse to Van Cleaf about looking for towels to launder, and gone back to work, but only after she had to pause to let him brush an "eyelash" off her cheek.

Now, as Van Cleaf approached her out by the pool, she knew that hurt and humiliation still showed in her eyes over the trash bin incident. He stopped directly in front of her and looked tenderly into her eyes. He brushed a strand of stray hair from her cheek with the back of his fingers. Noticing his fingers came away wet with tears, he pulled a soft linen handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. "I _am_ sorry, Madeleine," he began, looking softly into her eyes, "he should not have spoken to you that way." Madeleine sighed. "Well," she stated, "I was acting stupidly." Van Cleaf nodded in reluctant agreement and asked, "But why, Madeleine. Why did you get so nervous with him." He stood close up against her, as close as they had been in the ally. Only this time his proximity brought on desire, and longing for more of a touch than the brushing of an eyelash or speck of dust. Madeleine began to speak, "Mr. Van Cl.... "But he interrupted her, lifting her chin with his fingertips. "Pik," he said softly. "You can call me Pik," and he leaned forward to kiss her. Fear and confusion stabbed her insides, and she darted back away. "Mr. Van Cleaf, I have to go now." She made tracks quickly inside, still clutching the handkerchief.

She concluded that she couldn't wait any longer. She would have to make an opportunity to meet with Fouchon instead of waiting for it to come along. Considering Fouchon's miserable demeanor, the quicker she confronted him the better, before she came to hate him. And Van Cleaf, Pik...Pik was confusing her, she couldn't think straight around him. He made her as nervous and uneasy as Fouchon did, but in a different way. She could only deal with one dark, brooding and mysterious man at a time.

He watched her hasten away, shredded paper swirling around his feet in the wind, the bin forgotten by both of them. It was time to bring this little game of hers to an end, today. He had been surprised with himself, wanting to kiss her and actually trying, and it left him unfulfilled that she had resisted him. Fouchon had been miserable to her, and although he had succeeded in suppressing his desire to punch him in the teeth, it was only barely. Pik was going to get to the bottom of this, and he had a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Four**

Madeleine finished her shift in relative calmness. She saw Pik, as she now thought of him, speaking with Mrs. Lees and was worried about what he might be saying to her. She feigned some menial task nearby and listened in. Pik was saying, "I will be leaving town this afternoon, indefinately. But Mr. Fouchon will be here on his own during this time. Please keep this in mind when you take care of the grocery order next week, and remember to tell Cook."

"Yes, Mr. Van Cleaf, "Mrs. Lees replied. "Have a safe trip." Madeleine's heart leapt. Tonight! Van Cleaf would be leaving soon and Fouchon would be alone.

Two vans always brought the cleaning staff to and from the mansion, and this afternoon Madeleine waited until the driver put the van into gear before shouting, "Wait! I'm so sorry, I left my jacket!" She encouraged the driver to go on, she would catch the other van, which was still loading. The rest of the staff rolled their eyes. Madeleine constantly forgot something or another, and was always running back inside and catching the other van. Madeleine was pleased, her purposeful "ditziness" finally paying off as she stole into the mansion. No one at the agency would notice she was missing, each driver thinking she was in the other van.

She quietly made her way up the back stairs and into the guest room which held her clothes. She waited until the house was quiet for an hour, actually sitting in the closet, before she changed her clothes. The light was growing dim, and she didn't want to have to apply her make-up or touch up her hair in the dark, worried about turning on the lamp. She changed into a simple black cotton dress with a square collar and buttons down the front. It went down to her mid-calf, and detesting pantyhose, wore thigh-high black stockings and donned some practical flat-healed black shoes. She hadn't really wanted to wear all black, but reasoned a lighter color clothing might have been noticed in the darkness of the closet. She let her hair down, and brushed out its fullness. She applied modest make-up to her cheeks, lips, and eyes. She was ready.

She had seen Fouchon drive off, or rather heard him gun the Jaguar. She was certain she would hear it soon when he returned, but her wait turned into hours and the room grew dark. She was weary from her up-and-down emotions of the day, and thought to rest just a bit. In the darkness, she removed her shoes and curled up at the end of the bed. She drifted off to sleep, listening for the roar of the Jaguar.

Pik had smirked when he watched Madeleine's little ruse with the vans. He had seen her do it several times before. So clever! She had gone back inside, and he knew she wouldn't be coming back out this time. He decided to let her wait, and had just as stealthily crept into his rooms, which were only a few doors down from where she was. He had found her little pile of clothes the evening he had caught her sneaking out of the guest room. She didn't realize she was up against a professional, with no chance of getting very much by him.

He wanted to make her wait much longer, just to be mischievous, but found he was growing impatient himself. Silently entering the room, he saw her form on the bed outlined by the moonlight. He flipped on the switch and she sat up suddenly, groggily. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she scampered backwards across the bed as he approached her. He caught her ankles and dragged her kicking back toward him, the skirt of her dress riding up. He looked away from the sight of this, not wanting to be distracted. He grabbed both wrists in one hand and pulled her close against him and grabbed her face with his other hand, forcing her to face him. "Madeleine, Madeleine, Madeleine. You have gone much too far this time."


	5. Chapter 5

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Five**

"Let go of me!" Madeleine raged as Pik dragged her down the hallway and into his rooms. "What are you doing here?! You're not even supposed to be here! Let go!"

Once inside his suite, he pushed her up against the wall, not relenting his grip. He smirked, "I believe I'm the one who should be asking you those questions." He moved her hands above her head and held her wrists there. "In fact," be began triumphantly, "I believe our interrogation is long overdue."

She fought him, but it was useless. He was too powerful. "Where is Mr. Fouchon!" she demanded.

"Aaaah, Mr. Fouchon..." Pik began, looking off to some distant focal point. He turned back to her. "Mr. Fouchon left this afternoon...indefinitely."

"But I heard you say...You were the one..." then it dawned on her as she saw his evil smile. "You tricked me! You bastard!" She struggled anew and almost broke free, but he had her back up against the wall, and used his body to still her even further. She glared at him, "I hate you!" But his close contact had cause her desire to flare in spite of her anger.

"I know you don't mean that, Maddie,"he said, his face softening, the back of his hand sliding gently down her cheek. "Now, tell me, who are you?"

"Madeleine Rourke."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You're an a..."

He put his index finger against her lips. "Eh, eh, eh. Let' be civilized, now, Maddie." He then slid his thumb across her lips, smearing her lipstick, and cupped her cheek in his palm. The contact was getting to be too much for Madeleine. The way he kept saying her name, his deep rich voice so close to her ear, the touches of his hand on her face, his body pressing up against hers, holding her there. She nuzzled her cheek deeper into his palm, eyes closed.

Her action caught Pik off guard. He was surprised by its tender nature under such a circumstance. "Maddie...talk to me...tell me what I need to know..." he urged, softly.

She opened her eyes and looked up into his. "When....when you c-came out to see me by the pool today...to s-see how I was...it meant so much to me."

He slid his hand slowly down over her throat. She hadn't noticed he had released his grip on her wrists until she realized her hands were on his shoulders and his other hand had slid down to the middle of her back.

Pik was getting overwhelmed. He wanted to get to the bottom of her mysterious presence, but he was getting lost in her closeness, her scent, and the yielding way she was leaning her body against his. He saw the complete, unhidden love her eyes held for him, and it sent a shock through his entire frame. Nothing but his desire for her was occupying his thoughts at this point. Nothing except the knowledge that his actions during the next few moments could drag her into his dark life. He would give her one last chance, for her own sake, to leave. His lips touched her ear as he told her, "You have to leave now, you have to."

She pulled back and looked at him, the tragic "why" unspoken. He said, "If you stay here with me tonight, I won't be letting you go. There will be no turning back." His heart throbbed with each word. He did not want her to leave! She tilted her mouth toward his and he teased it with his lips, refusing to deepen the kiss. "I mean it, Maddie," he breathed. He hadn't realized they had been moving across the room until he felt her stop abruptly, the backs of her legs against his bed.

Their proximity to the bed pushed him over the edge, of his limits and of the mattress, and he leaned her back onto the blankets. He at last caught her lips in his, and she moaned with relief. He deftly unbuttoned the top of her dress and slid his hands down her arms, removing it to her waist. She eagerly helped him remove his customary black turtleneck, and they both gasped at the mutual pleasure of feeling each other's hot, bare skin against their own. He kissed her again deeply, urgently, and when he slid his mouth to her throat he heard her whisper her love for him in his ear. Remorse, a feeling almost alien to him, stabbed at him, and even as he rolled them to the center of the bed, he protested, "You don't know what you're saying, you don't know what kind of man I am."

She turned his face to look at hers. "Nothing..."she said, "nothing will ever change how I feel for you." She stroked his cheek, looking lovingly into his eyes, and he knew she meant it to the depths of her soul.

Hastily shed clothing made its way to the floor. They held none of themselves back, they had waited too long. He drew her into his abandon, delighting in her soft cries and he mouthed his way across her chest. Incapable of waiting much longer, he parted her legs and buried himself into her, and it was as blissful as he'd imagined it would be. She was completely his now, and he rode her with long, deliberate strokes, holding off until he knew she was ready, her fingernails digging into his back in anticipation. They cried out their ecstasy together, the low sounds from his throat voiced in time with her fervent gasps.


	6. Chapter 6

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Six**

Madeleine slept deeply until morning, spooned up against Pik's long warm form. She felt absolutely blissful and could not stop replaying their night together in her mind. He had made love to her a second time during the night, more slowly but no less intensely, and she couldn't imagine a sweeter time in her life. As she stirred to the morning light, she felt him lean up on his elbow and knew he was waiting for her to awaken. She turned onto her back and looked into his smiling eyes. She smiled back shyly and he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "Let's take a shower, "he said playfully as he hopped out of bed and treated Madeleine to a pleasant view of his bare backside while he strode confidently to the bathroom. He looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Come on."

Pik chuckled to himself at her shyness. She had dragged a sheet in front of her to traverse her way into the bathroom and large translucent glass shower doors built into the wall. She blushed a little then shrugged, and dropped the sheet to join him under the hot streaming water. He watched her revel under the rivulets, mist rising up around her, and found he couldn't resist. He pulled her to him and they kissed wantonly, feverishly under the flow of water. Up against the tile wall he took her urgently and quickly, and she met his passion. He held her there and she panted, "Do you know how long it's been...since I've had a shower this hot?"

He looked at her, and couldn't decide how to take that statement. "Are you comparing me to other men already, Maddie?"

"No," she laughed, "I mean, "she laughed again, "hot water, there is no hot water in my apartment. There never was, not the whole time I've been there."

Her explanation sufficed and he grinned, and they then got down to the business of actually showering, each other.

Madeleine noticed there were no feminine-type bathing supplies on the shower shelves, and was pleased, taking it to mean he didn't have much female company. When they were finished Pik wrapped a towel around his waist and Madeleine did the same, surprised at her growing boldness. She wrapped another around her wet hair. Pik led her back to the bed and directed her to lie on her stomach. He straddled her, leaning forward and nuzzling her neck. He sat up and she felt his fingers along her left shoulder, and she knew he was tracing the paths of the scars she carried there. There had been several gashes, some torn by metal, some sliced by glass. She knew he was curious but didn't want to ruin the wonderful morning by discussing something unpleasant. "They're from a car accident last year," she informed him flatly.

"It looks like it was serious," he said solemnly, concern in his voice.

"It was, it was. My parents were killed. I'm lucky I'm alive," she said sadly.

He was silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry," was all he could find to say.

"Can we please not talk about it now, please?"

"Of course..." a few seconds passed and he said, "But perhaps you can tell me about this," he said as he abruptly pulled the towel off from her waist. He rubbed his fingertips over a crescent-shaped, much older scar on the left cheek of her backside. "I came across it last night...in my...travels." She couldn't see him, but knew he was smiling.

"That," she said, "has been there as long as I remember." She felt his mouth on it, and then his tongue, which slid its way back up to her neck. He planted delicate kisses there. "I don't know where it came from."

"You know," he began, "I am a man with a great deal of business to attend."

"Then attend to it."

"I'm afraid I simply don't care to at the moment."

"Well," she breathed, "Who's complaining....?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Seven**

When she came downstairs to the kitchen, he was grinding coffee beans. She had retrieved her belongings from the guest room and gotten dressed, wearing her black clothing from the night before. He smiled at her, and eyed her dress. "You don't have any clothes here, do you?" She shook her head. "We'll go to your place and pick up your things, "he decided out loud, and continued making the coffee.

She hadn't needed to tell him where she lived, he already knew which building. The Jeep's radio played in the background along the ride about a friendly stranger in a black sedan. Pik looked methodically around her apartment, assessing it. It was indeed a sorry place, and he wondered again how badly she needed money. "Pack up everything," he said. "There's no reason for you to come back here again."

She was a little startled at his abruptness, "Pardon?"

"I don't want you coming back here, Maddie. Not to this building nor this area of town. It's not safe."

"I've seen you down here plenty of times, "she retorted.

"Yes, and I have seen you down here as well." Their unfinished business and his suspicions hung in the air, and Pik felt the real world creeping in to their previously oblivious realm. He didn't like it, but he knew it was unavoidable. "Listen," he said, "I have to meet with a business associate nearby..."  
She interrupted, "The one across from the café?"

He sucked his breath in between his teeth at her tenacity. "There are some things you would do well to forget," he said slowly. He was realizing what a mistake it was to get involved with someone. This could get to be very dangerous for her. But he couldn't leave her there in this dingy place, and he didn't want her anywhere except with him. "Listen, Maddie," he said patiently. "You will know all you need to know about me in time...just as I will about you. Now please, just pack up your things and wait here for me, in this room. I will be back by the time you are finished." He walked through the door before she could say a word.

Madeleine obeyed, trusting him. But she knew that whatever business he was involved in, involved Fouchon as well. And she had a right to know about Fouchon. Still, Pik's warning had been stern. She gathered the rest of her clothes, her toilette, the very little she had, and placed them in a battered hard-sided suitcase. From under the mattress she took a large tan envelope, hugged it to herself, and slid it underneath the rest of the items in her suitcase. The envelope held infinite value for Madeleine, and she hadn't wanted to leave it unattended with her clothes in the guest room closet at the mansion. She decided she could come clean with Pik about everything now. She had fallen in love with him and couldn't imagine living through a moment of her life without him. She could sense his protectiveness of her, and his possessiveness. And love? She hoped so. Soon, maybe. Hopefully, already.

Pik walked in just as she clicked the fasteners on her suitcase. He hated dealing with Randal Poe, but at the present, he was Pik's best bet for recruiting volunteers for the game. The whole thing reminded him of how wrong it was for him to involve Madeleine in his life, and his face remained sour and he carried her belongings downstairs and into the Jeep. They were silent the for whole ride back to the mansion, Madeleine pondering how to tell Pik her story, Pik cursing his heart for betraying him. He had never known Fouchon to get involved with any woman more than casually, physically. _"Look at what a pleasant fellow he is, though!"_ he mused. He should be happy to be in love, he thought to himself. _In love..._

He parked the Jeep in the garage, allowed to do so in the Jaguar's absence. But he didn't make a move to get out. He turned to Madeleine, who had a peaceful look on her face, as if a burden had been lifted from her. "Maddie, I am sorry for being so....so...."

"Don't worry about it." She smile sincerely.

"Okay." He knew she meant it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Eight**

She followed him as he carried her case to his room, but hesitated at the door. "Wait," she said uncertainly.

"What is it?"

"Um...." She stammered, "W-when is Mr. Fouchon coming back."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He felt unease creeping in again.

"I, I can't be staying in here. I can't be sharing a room with you...when he gets back." She bit her bottom lip, awaiting his reaction. He always seemed so touchy when she mentioned Fouchon. His reaction was frightening.

He set her case down and stood up stiffly. He spun around and she saw fury in his eyes. He approached her and backed her with his glare into the hallway until the wall stopped her retreat.

"Listen...." she began.

"No. You listen. I don't understand. You say you love me. And yet you are willing to give yourself to a miserable man like Fouchon?! For what? Don't you think _I_ can take care of you? He'll just hurt you. Don't you know I love you?! _I_ do. Not him. He _never_ will..."

Madeleine barely held off her laughter as she realized what Pik was insinuating. "Yes! He will!" she almost giggled out, unable to stop herself.

Pik lost control, incredulous that she was laughing at his anguish. He nearly growled as he punched the wall on either side of her head, "You are really starting to hurt my feelings," he said with a deadly calm. She ducked under him and ran into his room. She flipped open the suitcase and moved around the room with it, digging for something, as he advanced on her, raging.

She didn't feel like laughing anymore. This was not funny at all. She had grossly underestimated the degree of his misunderstanding and knew she was in danger. She was scampering backwards across the floor of his large walk-in closet when her hands closed around the envelope. She held it in front of her like a shield and prayed he would listen for just a moment.

"Pik! Pik, please, there's no one but you for me. No one. I do love you, I do! There's no one. Please listen to me." He stopped, a seething, evil-looking man she didn't know. She gestured toward the envelope.

"Listen, remember when I told you my parents were killed in a car accident?" Pik didn't respond. Madeleine decided to talk quickly. "They weren't my real parents. I mean, they were..." He took a step closer. "Stop! Just stop. They adopted me, okay?! This," she waved the envelope, "was in a safe deposit box. I got it when they died. It has lots of stuff in it, including information about my real parents, my birth parents." Pik still seemed unfazed, but he no longer looked murderous. He tilted his head toward her in a gesture for her to continue, but danger was still in his eyes. "It's all in here, in this envelope. My original birth certificate, my birth parents' marriage license, everything, all the proof I need." He began to reach for the envelope and she said, "Pik, Emil Fouchon is my father."


	9. Chapter 9

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Nine**

Pik expression didn't change as he snatched the envelope from her hands and marched out of the closet. He shut the closet door and she heard him turn the lock. She ran for the doorknob but it would not turn. "Son of a bitch," she hissed at being locked in. She felt around and found a light switch and flicked it on to reveal rows of fine clothes, coats, shoes and boots. They all seemed to move toward her. She turned and began pounding on the door. "Pik! Pik, please don't leave me in here. Pleeeease!" She began to perspire. The closet had looked big enough with the door open, but locked in, knowing she couldn't get out, it began to suffocate her. She sobbed and began gasping for breath. She had been trapped overnight, nearly sixteen hours, in the twisted remains of the car, her adoptive parents' lifeless corpses inches from her face, unable to move, pressed between the seats, ribs broken, unable to breathe, until someone finally noticed the car in the ditch. She was there again, living it again, losing the fight with the sickening claustrophobia that had plagued her since the night of the accident. "oh god...oh God...OH GOD!" she screamed, but to no benefit.

Pik heard nothing from the upstairs. He was in the parlor and had downed his third shot of bourbon before he dared to look through the contents of the envelope. Her story was incredible, but not impossible. There was a certificate of marriage for Emil P. Fouchon and Danielle L. Ridoux. And a birth certificate for Madeleine Elise Fouchon. Adoption papers for the Rourkes, stating her mother was deceased and that she and her mother had been abandoned by her father, Emil Fouchon, giving her orphan status. Then, a certificate of death for Danielle L. Ridoux. Pancreatic cancer. A letter, Madeleine's name scrawled across the face of a stationery envelope. Pik opened it but only read who had signed it. Mama. He tucked it back into it's envelope, not wanting to pry any further. Photographs, about half a dozen. A birthday party. A pony ride. And a studio family portrait of a young, handsome Fouchon with a lovely red-haired woman and a precious young girl. The child had her mother's eyes, but the rest of her features belonged to her father. He knew without any checking that the documents and photos were authentic, being able to spot (or make) a forgery from a mile away. The resemblance between Madeleine and Fouchon was still strongly evident. It was true, he could barely believe it. He actually laughed out loud. It was no wonder Madeleine had started to laugh! He had been accusing her of trying to seduce her own father. Madeleine...!

The papers fell from his lap as he stood and ran up the stairs, two at a time. He opened the closet door and was struck with horror when he saw her lying on her back, bloody hands covering her face. He knelt beside her despairing, "Maddie, what happened?!" He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, noticing the blood and scratches on the closet door. What in the world could have made her want to get out so badly? He brought back a wetted cloth from the bathroom and began to clean her face and hands. There was no injury on her face, it had come from her bleeding nail beds.

"Open a window..." she croaked out, and he complied.

Beside her again, he stroked her forehead and hair. "I am so sorry, forgive me." She just smiled, glad to be free. "You've got claustrophobia, haven't you?" he queried.

"Mmmm Hmmm."

"I..."  
"It's okay," she said weakly. "You didn't know."

"But I shouldn't have locked you in there regardless, even if you weren't claustrophobic."

"Well, you're right," she smiled a little and tried to sit up. "But it's okay now. I'm okay."

"No, you're not. Look at your hands."

She looked at them and grimaced. The ends of her fingers would be very sore for several days, the nails torn off at the quick. She barely remembered clawing the door.

He kissed each of her palms, and her blood was left on his cheek. She had to ask, "Did you look in the envelope?"

"Yes." He paused. "You were right."

"About being his daughter?"

"Well, yes, but that's not what I meant. I meant that you can't be staying in my room when he gets back. I don't know what he'd do to you, but he'd definitely try to remove a certain few inches of me that I'm not willing to part with."

Madeleine giggled. "_Few_ inches??"

"Well, I don't like to brag. Now, let's get your hands cleaned up." Her healthy color had almost returned, and he was relieved beyond all measure.

"I want to say this, the right way now," he said. "I love you."

She smiled, never knowing a happier moment in her life. "I know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Ten**

Pik knew Fouchon was tending to the legitimate sides of their businesses, as well as the more insidious. He was positive there would be several new clients for the hunt once he returned, and more often than not clients would spend time at the mansion. Pik had to get her out of the mansion, and he had to pry himself away from Madeleine long enough to do his part of their business. But he was loathe to pull himself away from her.

They lay together one morning, with Madeleine resting her head on Pik's chest, and he asked her about her childhood. "Did he really abandon you and your Mama?"

"Didn't you read the letter?" she asked.

"No, Maddie, I didn't think I should. It looked too personal."

She smiled. "Thanks. No, he didn't abandon us," she said, remembering. "In the letter, Mama said she just took me and left him. She said she loved him, though, but asked me to trust that she did what was best, even if I didn't understand. That's all she said about him."

Pik had warned her to keep their relationship a secret from Fouchon, for as long as Pik felt was necessary. Fouchon could be very quirky at times about his possessions, and he knew Fouchon would consider Madeleine among them. He knew Fouchon would be especially possessive about something that had been stolen away from him.

Twelve glorious days and nights they had together before Pik heard from Fouchon. He would be returning in two days and told Pik they would be busy. Right away he walked Madeleine to the guest cottage which was behind the main house and across from the pool. He unlocked the door and planted the key in her hand. She turned to him, puzzled.

"Fouchon, er, your father, will be here the day after tomorrow."

She didn't say anything. She was excited beyond words, and dreadfully nervous. What if he didn't believe her? Pik had taken the time to authenticate her documents, so Fouchon would know they were legitimate, but, still....there was the chance he would deny her.

They went inside the guest cottage, and it was quite nice, every bit as elegant as the mansion itself, only smaller. "I think it would be better for you to stay here instead of in the main house."

"Okay, if you say so," she replied sadly, looking around the cottage.

"I don't want your father wondering what might have gone on in the house, with the two of us alone. This is hard for me too. But you have to trust me. I know Fouchon very well."

It was getting difficult for her to think of having to leave Pik. He saw her frown and pulled her to him.

"Listen, you know I don't to be apart from you. Trust me, this is the best thing for now." He kissed her softly, but she still seemed sad. "When we're sure the time is right, we'll tell him."

"Tell him what?! That we've been sneaking around right under his nose...."

He stopped her before she could finish. "We'll tell him," he held out a black velvet box to her, "that we are going to be married." She snatched the box from him and opened it. It held an elegant solitaire surrounded by alternating pearls and garnets, their birthstones. She was stunned by its beauty and by what it meant for her and Pik. She couldn't move and Pik grew impatient and hastily slid the ring onto her finger. He closed his hands around hers, looked deeply into her eyes and raised his eyebrows in a silent question to her.

"Yes, yes, oh yes..." she choked out. He closed his eyes in relief and nodded. Then he removed the ring from her finger, put it back in the box, and closed her hands around the box with his own.

"When the time is right..." he said.

"When the time is right," she vowed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Eleven**

Pik kept her busy over the next two days. He hired a car and driver for her, and authorized her to use Fouchon's accounts at the finest shops in New Orleans for clothes and anything else she thought she might need. She questioned Pik on the excess, but he assured it was what Fouchon would have wanted for her once he found out who she was. "Be sure to get a swimming suit. And some things to wear just for me," he had instructed with a smile. Madeleine enjoyed the shopping and it gave Pik time to catch up on his dealings with Randal Poe and other details related to plying their odious trade.

They spent the night before Fouchon returned together in the cottage. She took the ring box out from under her mattress and he slid the ring onto her finger again. Knowing it was their last night of freedom together, they spent the hours until dawn memorizing every last bit of each other's bodies, making love desperately, feverishly, not knowing when they could be together again. He was so skilled a lover, so skilled a teacher, and she a willing student, and he reveled in all she had learned from him. She dozed off, and heard him moving about her bedroom. He laid out a light blue dress and matching shoes and jewelry. "I think you should wear this for him today. It'll show off the blue of your eyes," and he kissed each eyelid. "I'll call you an hour before you need to come to the main house. Wait in the parlour. Until then, get some rest." She sat up and he hugged her tightly then kissed her reluctantly goodbye, knowing their lives were about to change forever.

Fouchon was frenetic, as close to being pleased about something as he could come. He had made many business contacts in several different midwestern cities, some legitimate, some not. Some would be coming south for a hunt. He unpacked, made phone calls, asked after Pik's progress, and it was nearly twelve-thirty in the afternoon before Pik was finally able to call Madeleine on his cell phone. "Okay," was all she said, nervous, knowing just enough about Fouchon to be wary. Pik would stay with her while they talked, overtly to verify her claim, covertly to lend Madeleine moral support.

An hour later, Fouchon had calmed some and he and Pik had just finished lunch. Pik suggested they go into the parlour, and followed him in. Madeleine sat on the divan, dressed as Pik indicated and neatly coifed. As different as she looked, Fouchon recognized her as part of the maid service, and frowned. "What the hell is this about, Pik?" he asked, losing patience.

Pik placed himself about four feet away from Madeleine, and they faced Fouchon together. She stood and cleared her throat, wringing her hands again.

"My name is Madeleine Rourke," she said, feeling inadequate under his glare.

"And what interest," Fouchon snided, "could I possibly have for the name of a cleaning wench?" He turned to Pik, "Pik, I don't have time for this...."

Madeleine lifted her chin angrily and glared at him. Then she spoke to him again. "It should interest you, sir," she stated confidently, "because before I became Madeleine Rourke, my name was Madeleine Elise Fouchon."

The name from the past stabbed at Fouchon. He turned to face her, and remembered Pik's presence. "Pik, do you have anything to do with this?" He poured himself three fingers of bourbon and swallowed it down.

Pik set Madeleine's envelope on the bar to the right of Fouchon. "I have verified that all the documents in here are legitimate. Birth certificate, your marriage certificate..." but Fouchon was staring suspiciously at Madeleine and waved his hand dismissively at Pik.

Pik fell silent as Fouchon spoke again. "I of course trust your conclusions, Pik. But still, anyone could have come across those papers."

"Please, listen to me, I didn't make this up," Madeleine begged of Fouchon.

"Young lady," Fouchon said icily, "I am about to call your bluff." He advanced toward her menacingly, but she stood her ground. He continued, "My daughter carries a scar from a burn that healed rather strangely." She looked him in the eye as he continued. "Sort of a crescent moon. It's on her back-side." Madeleine and Pik glanced at each other, then quickly away.

Fouchon went on, "I know, because it's my fault...a carelessly dropped cigarette..."

Madeleine audibly sighed in relief, "I have that scar! I never knew where it came from, but I have it!"

"Do you expect me to take your word for it?" he growled, sneering. He still thought this was a ruse. He had given up on finding his wife and daughter ages ago, and it infuriated him that this chit was making this claim, prying into his personal life.

"Hey! I don't deserve this. I AM who I say I am, and I went through a lot of trouble to hunt you down."

Her reference amused Fouchon and he smirked at Pik. He looked back over to Madeleine, incredulity still filling his eyes.

She glared at him. "You wanna take a look?" Fed up, she was no longer afraid. She had the proof he wanted, and was prepared to give it to him. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure right now than to bare my arse and stick it right in your face!" She began to hike up her dress.

"Maddie! Maddie, please." Pik placed himself between glaring father and seething daughter. Madeleine stopped what she was doing. "If you will allow me, I will verify the scar," Pik said to Fouchon, attempting to bring civility back into the conversation. "After all, I believe her claim, and I think you'd be...uncomfortable...once your are satisfied of who she is, if you have seen her...ah..." Fouchon cleared his throat and nodded quickly, his eyes still on the girl.

"Okay, Mr. Van Cleaf," Madeleine said haughtily. She walked coolly around the bar, eyes glaring at Fouchon, and leaned slightly over one of the barstools. Pik cleared his throat, and looking a bit uncomfortable, shrugged at Fouchon and took a position behind her.

He delicately lifted her skirt up, and it was torture to appear unaffected when he saw the ivory skin he knew so well showing between the top of her stockings and the bottom of her panties. He slid the top of her panties down on the left side with his index finger until the scar was revealed.

"It's here," he said flatly.

Fouchon still hadn't looked, still seemed disinterested. "Be sure it's not fake."

Pik sighed, licked his thumb for Fouchon to see, and rubbed it roughly against the mark. "It's real."

Fouchon leaned over, saw the mark, and quickly looked away. Pik exhaled loudly, straightened her clothing, and stepped back.

Fouchon stood silently for a full minute, then said, "Leave us alone for a bit, won't you Pik?"

Pik glanced at Madeleine who nodded slightly, and so he left them alone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twelve**

Fouchon stood with his back to Madeleine for what seemed like forever. She waited quietly and without moving. Finally, he spoke, "You were four years old when your mother took you from me." He paused and turned to look at her. "Do you remember me at all?"

He had accepted her! Tears of relief came down from her eyes. "Yes, Papa," she choked. "I do remember you. Good things. I don't even remember getting burned!"

Fouchon felt another stab. _"Papa,"_ she had said, and Papa she had called him as a child. She had been his delight, and when she disappeared with her mother, she had become his devastation. His inability to find her had brought unfulfillment, broken dreams and a sense of loss in such extremes that all thoughts of her had turned to a wicked bitterness at what he would never have. And now as she stood before him, that bitterness was being ripped from it's entrenchment in his heart, and it physically hurt him. A quiet groan escaped his throat and when he closed his eyes to try to fight it a single tear slid out of each eye. He looked at his daughter, "Madeleine, Madeleine...I tried to find you, I looked for you...." His throat ached as he spoke, and he cursed his heart for feeling pain.

"I believe you, Papa."

"You can't understand what's going through my mind right now...I'm not sure what to say."

"Then don't." She reached for him. "Please, Papa..." She had imagined this moment so many times.

He realized what she wanted and hesitantly took her in his arms. He pulled her more tightly to him as he felt her arms wrap around him and her head lay against his chest. Sighing deeply, he vowed, "No one is ever going to take you from me again," and a deadly chill went down Madeleine's spine.

Madeleine sobbed occasionally during the reunion, but Fouchon composed himself, incredulous he had actually shed tears. He had quickly instructed Pik to handle a number of matters, including arrangements for a hunt the following night. "I can handle it," Pik said and immediately left, relieved things finally seemed to be agreeable. Fouchon returned to Madeleine and poured them both a hefty drink, for which she was grateful. They sat facing each other, a thousand questions in their eyes. Fouchon broke the silence. "Was there another man? Did your mother take you and leave me to be with another man?"

"No, there was never any other man. It was only just the two of us, I swear it."

"Well, then, where is she now?"

Madeleine looked down into her drink. "I'm...sorry, Papa, she...she's passed away."

"Passed away? When?"

"When I was nine....she had cancer."

"So where have you been all this time?"

"Mama found a couple to adopt me, I was with them until they died last year. That's when I found out about you."

"Your mother was dying, and thought it would be better to put you with strangers than to give you back to me?!" A frightening, angry look clouded his face.

"Please, Papa, please don't hate her."

Hating Danielle was all he had done for as long as he could remember. The intensity of the bitterness he felt over Madeleine's loss was mirrored by the hatred which grew from Danielle's betrayal. Both had carved him, created him. The bitterness would be eased partially by Madeleine's return, but a great deal would remain for the years they had lost. But there would be no respite for the hatred that burned for her mother, hatred which now grew hotter at this new revelation.

"Do you remember anything she told you about me?" He was curious.

"All I know is what is in the letter Mama left for me, that's it." She pulled the letter out of the larger envelope and waited while he read it.

"This is all? This is her only defense?"

"Yes, Papa. I don't understand, do you?."

Fouchon paced, his hands clasped behind his back. "Your mother and I didn't know each other very well when we married. We sort of rushed into things, we rushed into you, in fact...Once we did get to know each other...well...but that's no excuse. She didn't have to take you and disappear, we could have worked something out." He made his way back over to Madeleine.

Madeleine attempted to talk about what she remembered about her mother, but Fouchon wasn't interested. He was just as dismissive when she talked about her adoptive family.

Fouchon took a large swallow of his drink and changed the subject. "Are things so bad for you that you have to clean houses to make ends meet?"

"No, not exactly," she began. She explained she had received a decent enough life insurance settlement at her adoptive parents' death. There was no real estate involved, since they rented an apartment, but the money she did get paid for their funerals, debts, and the student loans she accrued while earning her MBA. But after she got the envelope telling of her parentage, most of the remaining money was spent on private investigators to search out the whereabouts of one Emil Fouchon. Her funds started to run low, but she had to further employ private investigators once in New Orleans. First to find out places he might be and when, and later to discover the cleaning service he used. "I should've done that first, instead of chasing you all over the city." He raised his eyebrows at this as she continued. "The maid service was always hiring. Nobody likes to be a maid. I got hired right away."

"But why didn't you talk to me right away?"

"I don't know. You were so difficult to make contact with like normal people, I figured you were someone really important. I guess I wanted to see what you were like and wait for the perfect moment."

He joined his fingertips in front of his face pensively. There had been a moment, hadn't there? "And I was cruel to you," he stated. He stared out the window, muttering, "All this time, all this time...I would have given you every privilege..." She let him talk. He turned back toward her, "I have never been accused of being a nice person. I am very sorry for how I treated you. But now I'd like to have a second chance with you, if you'll let me."

"Is that an invitation to stay?"

"Would you like to?"

"Yes, I want to very much. But for how long?" She wondered if she should keep paying rent at her apartment.

He cocked his head a little, surprised. "Forever, of course, you're my daughter." He smiled and asked, "Where are you staying now?"

"Here," she answered and Fouchon looked concerned. "No," she said, "I mean here, at your estate. In the guest cottage. Mr. Van Cleaf said it would be best if I stayed there. He said that you're not always here, and I'd probably be more comfortable in a smaller place."

"Yes, my man Pik. Good idea,"he said more to himself than to Madeleine. "What do you think of him. It seems you were able to spend some time with him."  
"Well, he's been very helpful, getting me settled and all. He's kind of quiet, though, doesn't talk much, you know?" She hoped she sounded sincerely uninterested in him.

"But how did it end up that you told him about yourself?" he inquired.

"He caught me following the two of you in the city."

"You were following us in the city? Did you see anything...interesting?"

"No, and Mr. Van Cleaf kindly asked me to stop stalking you. That's when I got hired by the maid service. But he recognized me."

Fouchon was slightly puzzled that Pik hadn't told him about the girl, but he reasoned he must've had his reasons. He trusted Pik implicitly.

"Go on."

She told him that he had caught her hiding out in the mansion and that he had been quite accommodating once she explained who she was and presented him with the documents she had.

"He didn't get...rough? I mean, before he realized who you were?"

"No," she reassured. "Like I said, he's been really helpful. Made me move up here out of my apartment right away. Let me buy stuff under your name. He said you'd approve."

"And I do." He smiled sincerely at her. "Do you have something you can wear for formal dining tonight?" She nodded. "Then get ready. Your Papa is taking his daughter out to dinner. I'll pick you up around the back of the cottage in an hour." He got up and kissed her forehead.

Madeleine smiled warmly before she got up to head back to the cottage. _"This is going well,"_ she thought. _"It's almost perfect..."_


	13. Chapter 13

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Pik crept along the outside wall of the guest cottage and opened the window, his presence hidden by the foliage which outlined it. Fresh from an exhilarating hunt, he was primed with energy and could wait no longer to see his love. He hadn't seen her at all during the first three days following the father-daughter reunion. And during the next four days, he had seen her frequently, but it had been agony to feign indifference to her in Fouchon's presence, and sharing nothing but stolen glances was nearly as painful as not seeing her at all.

Once in Madeleine's bedroom, he quietly shed his coat, clothing, and boots onto the floor. He brought the engagement ring out from its hiding place and clasped it in his hand, then he slipped under the covers to join her.

Pik's sudden, warm presence immediately woke Madeleine, and Pik slid the ring onto her finger before saying a word. "Maddie, oh Maddie..." was all he could say anyway, and he pulled her tightly against him.

She had missed him to the point her heart ached, and she felt him kiss her tears of joy away as he joined with her, loved her inside and out, and claimed her as his own again. He lay on top of her, resting his weight on his elbows, her legs wrapped around his. "I am so sorry I couldn't come to you any sooner," he said.

"I know you would have if you had been able to. I'm just so happy you're here now." She still wept silent tears of relief and happiness.

They wrapped a blanket around themselves and made their way to the living room. Pik lit a fire in the fireplace and rested on the floor against the couch. Madeleine sat on the floor as well, leaning her back against the warmth of his chest. They cuddled under the blanket that way and Madeleine tried to explain to Pik her growing relationship with her father. It had been wonderful initially, but now it was not going in the direction she had imagined. She told him of all that had passed between them, and how she felt. "At first," she said, "I thought he was making up for lost time, but it was more than that. Then it was as if he was being extremely devoted, but that wasn't exactly it either..." She trailed off.

Pik finished her thought, having seen for himself what was going on, "Your father is trying to make you into _his_ daughter. The way he imagined you would be if he had been the one to raise you."

Pik knew Fouchon well and had clearly seen that he had become obsessed with Madeleine, focusing on her clothes, her manners, her diction, her entire outward appearance and the way she comported herself. He had immediately dismissed the maid service and hired a new one, loathe to be reminded of the days his daughter had cleaned peoples' homes for a living. He commissioned an artist to paint a giant oil portrait of father and daughter in formal wear, and Madeleine was forced to sit with him for hours for the painting. In consequence, Pik was forced to do a great deal of work on his own, which gave him less time than he thought he would have for Madeleine.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was a mistake going to Fouchon," she pondered aloud. "I try to tell him about myself, and he doesn't want to hear it. He actually forbade me to speak of my mother or of the Rourkes."

Pik explained, "He doesn't want to be reminded of a time when he wasn't in control. If you don't talk about it, it never existed."

She turned and straddled him so she could see his face. "And there's something...dangerous...I feel when I'm around him. I'm...afraid of him, Pik."

"Shhhh. Shhhh. Maybe, Maddie, maybe in a few weeks, he'll calm down. I'll try to get him to focus more on...business...which he has been putting off. It'll give us more time together."

He pulled her close to him and kissed her sweetly, "No more talk...it's just us here now." Passion deepened his kiss, and he lifted her by her hips and settled her onto him, and him into her, and it was sheer bliss. She threw her head back as his strong hands guided the movement of her hips, and they both savored every second of the pleasure they shared. She collapsed onto him, her hands clasped behind his neck, and dozed off. She awoke a little later as he was carrying her back to her bed. He dressed, kissed her gently, and left the way he came in.


	14. Chapter 14

**Blood Is Thicker...**

Chapter Fourteen 

Those few weeks turned into nearly three months. But conditions did improve a bit for Pik and Madeleine. In a rare move, Pik reminded Fouchon that he was a "professional," and that the business of their game was a responsibility he had been neglecting. Fouchon conceded and began to pay more attention to the businesses he was involved in, freeing some time for both Pik and Madeleine.

The hours Pik kept were, to Madeleine, mysterious and bizarre. They did their best to work around the time he needed to spend with Fouchon and the activities Fouchon had planned for himself and his daughter. Sometimes he would come to her room at all hours of the night, other times he would ask her to meet him in the city in the middle of the day. On these occasions, she would have her driver drop her off at a movie theater or restaurant, and then walk a few blocks to meet Pik, and they would spend their stolen hours together. Sometimes they would actually attend the movie together, always entering and leaving separately. Other times they would dine in one of the more obscure eating establishments, Pik not wanting either of them recognized in one of the finer places. But most times, most time, they spent in each others' arms. Pik had leased a flat in a decent area of the city, and they made their way there as often as they could. But it wasn't enough.

She wanted desperately to bring everything out into the open with her father, but Pik warned sternly against it. At the cottage, in the hours just before dawn, Pik prompted a frank discussion with Madeleine. "Your father suspects your are seeing someone secretly," he told her. "In fact, he's sure of it. He just doesn't know who."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that you go to restaurants alone, but he never sees the charges for these places on the statements for the accounts he set up for you."

"How does he know where I go?"

"Your driver, Maddie. Do you think he doesn't ask him about you? He also says you say you go shopping and are gone for hours, but he never sees you bring anything back, and there are also no charges on your accounts for the shoppes." She listened intently.

He went on. "You have to know, he's followed you himself. He had seen your driver drop you off one time at the theater, and then saw you get into a taxi a few blocks down the street. Fortunately for us, he lost you. You must have been on your way to the flat."

"Would it be so terrible if he found out that I'm seeing you, that I love you?"

"Maddie," he sighed, "I don't think you understand. He's asked me to follow you myself now, find out who it is, and to 'do whatever needs to be done' to discourage your young man from continuing this relationship with you. You have no idea what 'whatever' includes."

"But he has no idea who it is?! He could really like him."

"He said he explained to you your position as his daughter, and suggested several young men he considered possibly suitable for you and possibly acceptable to him."

"Yes, but he can't decide that type of thing for me, that's ridiculous!" she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, yes he can. And you know very well that I didn't make the cut." He pulled her close. "I'm sorry to make you upset, but you've got to get it into your head that he still can't know about us. We are going to have to leave here if we want to be together."

"You're wrong, there's got to be another way. I shouldn't have to choose between you. You've been his...partner...or whatever...for years! He couldn't get along without you and you know it and he knows it. So why wouldn't he accept you for me? He loves me, shouldn't he want me to be happy?"

"He doesn't understand love. He thinks he loves you, but all he feels is that you were something that was stolen from him and now that he has you back, and he's not going to let you go, ever. No part of you. Not even your heart."

"But give him some time, I know he'll change."

"My darling Maddie, your optimism brings hope to even the likes of me."

"Let's not talk about it anymore right now. You have to leave soon."

Pik agreed, and loved her all he could before the sun crept over the horizon.

Madeleine learned many of the dynamics surrounding her father and Pik. Although she knew there was something sinister going on involving Pik and her father together, she knew Fouchon himself was a prominent, legitimate businessman, art collector, and renowned world traveler. He had also set himself apart from others. He was successful, wealthy, and enjoyed being admired. She learned that while Fouchon was visible and sought-after at the social engagements and business functions she was privy to at the main house, Pik remained aloof in the shadows, a wraith, the essential but darker side of her father's industry, and she wondered how they had become so deeply entwined. But each one seemed to enjoy being who and what he was. Or at least Pik had been until she entered the picture. There was an unease growing inside her that the more she got to know her father, the more certain she became that there was no man on this earth, let alone Pik, he would consider good enough for her. And the longer Pik and Madeleine were forced to stay apart because of Fouchon, the more Pik's dangerous resentment grew.


	15. Chapter 15

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Amid the number of engagements and appearances for Fouchon and his daughter to attend, he delighted in telling her he was planning a "coming out" party for her birthday to officially introduce her to New Orleans society. He had her car take her to the city to have a dress designed and fitted uniquely for her, just for the occasion. She had been so relieved when the oil portrait had finally been completed, but now she had appointments with the dress designer to contend with. She was getting emotionally run ragged, became nervous and agitated and began biting her fingernails. Fouchon made his displeasure known about her habit and insisted she get them professionally manicured to cover the damage. He detested the scarring on her shoulder, but she stood up to him and refused to have it surgically corrected, keeping the peace by not wearing anything that would reveal them.

She stepped out of the dressing room after her latest fitting and almost ran to Pik when she saw him there, but remembered the presence of the seamstress. "Mr. Fouchon needed his driver and asked if I would pick you up," he explained.

"Of course," she said gleefully and he drove them over the county line and stopped in the parking lot of a small business mall.

He sat looking straight ahead, hands still on the steering wheel, and kept slightly nodding to himself. "Maddie," he finally began, "I know you're getting as frazzled as I am. I thought things would get better, but they're not." He had brought her engagement ring with him and nervously slipped it onto her finger.

She looked at it. "It's not your fault," she dispaired. "I wish I'd never told Fouchon who I was, ever...Me and my stupid fairy-tale dream..."

"No, no, no. Don't." He lifted her chin with his finger and looked softly into her eyes. He kept trying to say something but would look away and quietly chuckle, and then start over again. Madeleine started to laugh a little herself when she realized that Pik was actually nervous about what he was trying to say.

Finally, he got the words out. "Marry me. Right now, right there." He gestured toward a justice's office several yards in front of them. The justice, a former client, had already agreed to perform the small ceremony in exchange for significantly higher than the going rate for such a service. "We'd have to leave right away, though, there's no other way." He hated the thought of running and hiding, it seemed cowardly. But he had a feeling that Fouchon would figure things out soon, he was no fool. His obsession with his daughter had only intensified over time. If her father knew the truth, knew that it was Pik, it would come down to killing him or being killed. Either way Maddie would lose. She'd be without a father, whom she loved in spite of what he put her through. And Pik did not want to hurt her that way. Or she would be without her love, and her father would keep her practically under lock and key for the rest of her life. He knew it would be a living hell for her.

"We'd have to disappear?" She couldn't hurt her father again that way. "But what about my father?"

He assured her. "After a while, you can contact him. Call him, maybe. We'll see if we think it's safe. However long it takes. You know how he'll react at first."

"He'll want you dead, I know it." She stated it plainly and he nodded. "So, now what? Marry you right now. Then run off?"

"Yes, why not?"

"No, no, I can't," she said. He looked crushed. "He's got that birthday party planned for me next week. The governor's supposed to come...."

"Okay, okay. I understand. But what about after the party? And I mean, right after."

She gave it some thought. "Okay, that way I can get some things together, and I'll have time to leave my father a note. Then I won't feel so badly about taking off."

Pik smiled and shook his head. "Only you would be concerned about hurting Fouchon's feelings." He kissed her and said, "Okay, we'll do it your way." Pik began to open the Jeep's door while Madeleine buckled her seat belt. He stood outside staring at her through the open car door, and she at him. "Maddie," he urged, "what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're right here. Let's do it."

"You mean still get married? Now?"

"Yes!" He was getting anxious.

She bit her lip and nodded excitedly. "Okay. Let's do it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"What about rings?" she whispered to Pik just as they walked into the justice's office.

"When are you going to learn I always think of everything?" he smiled as he pulled out a different ring box and opened it. Inside were two simple but heavy gold bands. She nodded in approval. He had also brought the necessary documents the justice would need. The ceremony was simple and short, but it did the job. He kissed her madly in front of the justice, who shared no joy in knowing their secret. He entreated Pik to be sure Fouchon was agreeable to the marriage before he let him know who had performed the ceremony.

Marriage certificate in one hand, bride in his arms, Pik Van Cleaf carried his new wife over the threshold of a nearby motel. There wouldn't be much time before they were missed back at he mansion, so they made the most of it. "Wife," he whispered into her ear as they joined their bodies. "Husband," she whispered back to him.

An hour later Pik sat on the bed tying his boots. She knelt behind him and hugged him. "How did you get to be the way you are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are very different from my father, of course. But you're also very much like him in some ways."

"What ways?" He tied his other boot.

"Dark and dangerous."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes. I mean, not to me, but I can see a lot of people are afraid of you. That justice was," she said.

"I like it that way."

"Come on..."

He looked back over his shoulder at her. "I am a black sheep." He smiled wickedly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Disowned by my family, a prodigal son, a wanted man, a rogue..." he continued to smile throughout his litany.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "I had to live by my wits, make my own way, and do what I had to do to survive for a long time without even my own name among my possessions. Our marriage certificate here," he indicated the piece of paper, "is the only legal document I've had my real name on since...well, in years."

"You don't seem to care."

"I don't. It's suited me. I've been content for a long time with the...business arrangement...I've had with your father." He pressed her shoulders onto the bed and rubbed his nose against hers. "At least until I met you." He bent to kiss her, but she stopped him.

"Don't you think we should get back?" She was getting worried about being missed by her father.

"You're right," he sighed, conceding her point.

They rode back in silence as the rain poured. Madeleine turned on the radio. Queen's haunting tune told them there was no time for them...no place for them...no chance for them...It felt like a bad omen to her and she turned it off. She was tense again, Pik noticed. She grew pale and he reached over and held her hand, "Hey, it's all going to be okay. We'll be back in time." She smiled and nodded.

As the evening of her party grew closer, Madeleine grew chronically distraught. She was thrilled to be Pik's wife, but wondered if having the extra burden of another secret was what had increased her agitation to its current extreme. She could barely keep down anything she ate, and knew she was growing pale. She couldn't sleep and felt weak constantly, and sometimes dizzy. Her father's main concern was that her appearance would embarrass him at the party. He advised her to use cosmetics to cover the dark circles under her eyes and hide her pallor. She ached to please him, she truly did. But she didn't think it was possible. She was just like any of his other possessions. Instead of a trophy wife, she would be his prize, a thing, a perfect thing, to show off. Another accomplishment of his. She simply could not fit the bill, and she knew it.

The morning of the party, the apparel shop delivered the finished dress to the mansion. Madeleine was asked to don the dress one last time to double check for any last minute nips or tucks. She turned to walk up the stairs to change, but continued to turn and faced the room again and spun into unconsciousness. Pik heard the commotion and raced into the room to find Madeleine in her father's arms as he kneeled on the floor. "Dr. Morton," Fouchon said to Pik, "Get Dr. Morton on the phone. Tell him I will meet him at the hospital. Here, help me get her to the car."

"What happened?"

"I don't know, she just fainted." He looked around at all the preparations being made. "God damn it!" he shouted out loud. Then to Pik, "Let's go."

Dr. Morton felt a shudder go down his spine when he heard Pik Van Cleaf's voice on the other end of the phone. The man scared the hell out of him. He assured Van Cleaf he would be at the hospital before even Fouchon arrived.

"It appears to be a simple case of fatigue," Dr. Morton told an impatient Fouchon. "But I've only examined her briefly. Her blood pressure is way too high, though, and she's going to need a complete exam."

"I am in a hurry, Dr. Morton."

"Okay, we can do that next week. But she hasn't been eating well, she said, and it's taken its toll. I'm sure that with a day or two of bed rest and a bland diet to start with, she'll be fine in no time."

"We have an important engagement tonight, doctor. You know that, you're on the guest list. I need her up and about, now." Fouchon would not be quelled.

Dr. Morton knew better than to defy him. "Okay, okay. I'll give her a vitamin B-12 shot, that should get her going. And it should bring some color back to her skin." He hoped that would satisfy him. "I've also run a few tests, blood and urine, just as a precaution, and I'll let you know tonight what the results are. I'm sure it'll be nothing, just fatigue."

"Madeleine, let's go," Fouchon called to his daughter through the curtain. "Give her the shot, doctor. And I'll see you tonight." Dr. Morton sighed relief when they left, but he had a feeling the worst of this day was yet to come.

The B-12 did improve her color, and she felt better. Fouchon insisted she rest in the cottage for a few hours, and she was happy to comply. He later asked Pik to check on her and see if she had eaten anything. Pik, also happy to comply, audibly grumbled for Fouchon's ears how he detested baby-sitting duty. Fouchon smirked.

"Are you feeling better, Maddie?" he asked her as she lay curled on her bed.

"Just hold me and I will be," she said, and he lay behind her and gathered her in his arms.

"This is it," she said. "It's over tonight, okay?"

"Yes, we'll leave tonight, after your father goes upstairs for the night. I'm so sorry it's gotten to be this awful for you." He kissed the back of her neck. "It's almost over. You rest as much as you can, okay? You've got a busy night."

"I will."

"And try to eat some toast or something when you get up...You really scared me today, by the way."

"Sorry." She had dozed off again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Blood Is Thicker...**

Chapter Seventeen 

Fouchon met Madeleine at the cottage to escort her to the party. Upon arriving he smiled, "Let me look at you!" and she slowly turned around for him.

"The dress is perfect, Papa. Thank you."

"You are perfect." He kissed her cheek. He was practically beaming with pride at her. "How are you feeling?"

"I am much better. I got a lot of rest."

"I know I've put you under a great deal of pressure for this. But it will be worth it, I promise." He handed her a foil-wrapped box. "Here, this is for you."

She took the gift and sat on the couch to open it. It was a vanity set, a comb, brush, and hand mirror made of pure silver, with the Fouchon monogram gilt onto the back of the mirror. It was a beautiful set, and she was honestly pleased.

"Oh, Papa. Oh, it's so lovely." She ran her hands over the silver and looked up at him. "Thank you."

He looked at, warmth in his eyes, and her heart ached. How could he be so wonderful one moment and then ruthlessly cruel the next? Her eyes misted with tears at the duality of what she felt for him.

"Don't, don't. You'll mess up your make-up." He reached his hand down to hers. "It's time to go."

The party was indeed a fabulous success, and Fouchon nearly glowed with pride, his lovely daughter on his arm. The portrait of them hung above the grand fireplace, and drew much admiration from the crowds of high-society guests, businessmen, former clients of the game, and, of course, the governor. Madeleine did her best to remember the names of all the people she met, and could tell for once she was operating up to Fouchon's standards. He was in his element.

Excusing herself to use the powder room, she caught Pik lingering in the hallway. He pulled her around a corner and regarded her. "Mrs. Van Cleaf, you are truly beautiful," he whispered, but he dared not touch her. Anyone could come around that corner at any time. "Are you having a good time?"

"It's no fun in there without you."

"I prefer a different crowd."

"So do I." She ached to close the distance between them.

"Everything's ready," he continued in low tones. "I have our things in the Jeep, and it's is parked way down the back drive. We'll have to walk there, it's a little far, but I don't want to take the risk of us being seen driving off from the front of the house." He was greatly anticipating their freedom together.

"Pik! There you are." They both turned to see Fouchon coming around the corner. "Hello, darling," he said to Madeleine, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Pik, has Dr. Morton tried to get through? I'm waiting to hear about Madeleine's tests and he isn't here yet."

"No, I haven't heard from him. I'll try him on the phone and get back to you." He nodded to Madeleine and walked away, unable to help himself from staring over his shoulder at her as he retreated.

"Papa, I feel fine," she said, following Pik with her eyes. "Don't worry about the tests right now."

Fouchon answered, "I know, but I expected to hear from him by now, and it's not like him do disappoint me." He led them back to rejoin their guests, which, at the late hour, were finally starting to disperse.

Dr. Morton jumped with a start when his cell phone began to ring. He did not answer it. He just sat in his car, staring up the drive to the Fouchon mansion, and drank greedily from a silver flask. He thoroughly believed Fouchon was a "kill the messenger" type of person, but he had something to tell him nonetheless that couldn't wait. He was in deep enough straights with him for not attending the party, and wondered if he would live to see another sunrise. He knew he was a coward when it came to Fouchon and Van Cleaf, but if he was going to commit a final act of bravery, it would be to get the girl out of harm's way before he delivered the news to Fouchon. He waited until there was only a few more cars left and completed the drive to the house, finishing off the contents of his flask before he walked to the door.

Luck was with him as he saw Madeleine right away. He motioned for her to come to him, then he told her she was to see him first thing in Monday morning, but she would have to leave the party immediately and rest. "I will explain everything to you at your appointment, and run some more tests, but you have to go, now. It has to do with your blood pressure." He was genuinely concerned about her level of stress. "Have your father come over here to talk to me, it's about a different matter," was the last thing he said before he ducked into the study.

Puzzled, Madeleine spoke to her father. "Dr. Morton is here. He told me to go to bed right away and then he'll see me on Monday, but he wants to talk to you now."

"Did he say what this is about?"

"Not really. He's in the study."

"You should do what he says." Fouchon looked around and, satisfied the party was indeed for the most part over, kissed her forehead. "Go on, I'll say the rest of your 'good-nights' for you."

"Okay, good-night, Papa. And thank you for a wonderful night." She looked around for Pik, concerned about the strange way the doctor was behaving, but couldn't see him anywhere. Urged by the doctor's tone, she left for the cottage. She had let her father bully her that morning into forgoing the complete exam Dr. Morton had wanted, and now she regretted that. She would not let Pik bully her into leaving tonight, either, she decided. If there was something wrong with her and the doctor had made and appointment to see her, then she and Pik could leave afterward, so she could have some peace of mind. She changed into her satin nightgown and rested on the couch, waiting for Pik. She knew he would not be happy.

"Dr. Morton, what is going on?" Fouchon was disgusted to notice the good doctor was red-eyed, sweating, and smelled of liquor.

"I need to talk to you, and you need to remain calm...." Dr. Morton began. When, a few minutes later, Fouchon stormed out of the study without a word in response to the news, Dr. Morton left as quickly as he could. He drove home, feeling a deep pity for the girl. He knew it was unethical for him to tell Fouchon instead of the girl, but it had been a long time since he'd practiced ethics. He knew his life depended on it. If he found out he hadn't told him about Madeleine's condition immediately, he knew Fouchon would make him pay.


	18. Chapter 18

**Blood Is Thicker...**

Chapter Eighteen 

Fouchon nearly barreled Pik over has he launched his way outside toward the cottage.

"What's gotten into you?" Pik asked him.

Fouchon stopped and ran his hands through his hair and barely contained a roar, "I think I'd better have you with me for this." So Pik followed him, growing alarmed as he realized their destination.

Fouchon opened the unlocked cottage door and walked straight in, Pik at his heels. Madeleine gaped when she saw them. She stood and covered herself with a throw from the couch, embarrassed that her father had seen her in such a state of dishabille.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Expecting someone else?" He advanced at her quickly, a snarl on his face. "You little whore!" He raised his fist and swung the back of it forcefully toward her face. In an instant Pik was between the two of them and absorbed the blow with his own arm. He looked Fouchon dead in the eye as he continued to hold back the swing.

"Don't do it. Remember, she's your daughter." Pik had no idea what was going on, and apparently neither did Madeleine. He thought it wise to keep his position between the two of them should he try to strike her again.

"Papa, what is it?"

He flipped over the coffee table.

"After all I've done for you, how could you do this to me?!" Fouchon raged around the living room, knocking things over, throwing whatever he could get his hands on at whatever would make the most noise.

"Please, what is happening!" she screamed, running behind Pik and grabbing onto his shoulders, clinging to him. She peeked over at her father.

"'What is happening?!, What is happening?!'" he mocked. "Congratulations," he said with bitter sarcasm. "Your little fainting spell this morning...those tests at the hospital...Dr. Morton tells me you've gotten yourself knocked-up!" He picked an end table up over his head and threw it through the living room window with a growl.

Pik suddenly lost all his color and would have fallen over and taken Madeleine with him if he hadn't been able to lean some of their weight against the wall. He fought to focus on the present danger: Fouchon

"No," she barely croaked out.

"Oh, yes!" Fouchon answered her. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is going to be for me?! I just gave you your coming out party, introducing you to this society. We could've stayed here forever if I'd wanted to." He moved toward her, but Pik held a hand up to warn him off.

Fouchon continued to rave, "But you get yourself pregnant by God-knows-who. Do you know what this will do to me?! To my reputation?! Why?!" He held his palms up at his sides and shouted the last question to the sky.

He closed his eyes and calmed a bit. He reached out and grasped one of Pik's shoulders. "Pik, Pik. Come here." Pik left Madeleine and walked across the room with Fouchon. She leaned against the wall, watching them, afraid to move, afraid something would set him off again.

"Pik, it's a good thing you were here right now. I don't want to hurt her."

"Well, you nearly did. You've got to calm down." Pik had regained himself, Madeleine's pregnancy could be dealt with later. Now, however, the most important thing was to get both of them safely away from Fouchon. "This isn't the end of the world."

"Just let me handle this, Pik...Help her, help her get whatever she wants from here and bring it up to the main house." He advanced toward her again but Pik held him back.

"Did you hear me, Madeleine?" Fouchon said to her, barely keeping his rage under control. "Get your things and come to the house. You'll be staying there until further notice."

She meekly nodded, glancing back and forth from her father to Pik with frightened eyes.

Fouchon broke free from Pik's grip, grabbed the telephone off the wall Madeleine was leaning against, and ripped the cord out of the wall. She flinched from the flying plaster. "And don't try to call him." He looked to Pik, who nodded. "You're not going to see him again, whoever he is. And you had better pray I never find out, because if I do, I'll be having his guts with my coffee and croissant."

He leaned his face into hers, snarling. "I am so disappointed in you." She cringed at his words.

Pik had closed the distance between them again and pulled Fouchon's arm. "I've got it under control now."

Fouchon closed his lips tightly and nodded to Pik, then clapped his hand on Pik's shoulder in a gesture of approval before he waded his way through the debris on the floor and stalked out the door.

Pik watched him follow the path up to the main house and turned to face Madeleine.

"Is this true?" she asked him, still clinging to he wall.

"I suppose it must be. I didn't know until the same moment you did."

"But, but we always..." she stammered.

"No, love, not always. Not those first few times"

She tried to swallow, her throat dry. "I'm sorry."

He walked slowly to her and gently rested his hand on her stomach. "Maddie," he began, "we simply cannot talk about this baby right now. Your father isn't stupid, the minute he calms down, he's going to figure this out...the way you ran to me, the way I protected you, and all the other little times he's caught us alone." He looked sternly in her face.

"We have to leave...now," he said, pulling her out the door, barely giving her time to grab a pair of sneakers from the floor, and led her along the back dirt driveway. When she paused after only a few steps to slip the sneakers onto her bare feet, Pik realized she had on nothing but her thin, short nightgown. When she stood, he removed his coat and slipped it onto her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't paying attention. Your clothes are in the Jeep, you can change when we get there."

She squared her shoulders and nodded. He had said there would be no turning back, hadn't he?

Taking her hand, he led them along the wooded road.


	19. Chapter 19

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Nineteen**

Emil Fouchon paused outside the back door of the mansion, placed his palms against the wall beside it and leaned there, calming himself and conniving a thousand different ways to murder this unknown lover of his daughter. And he would, and had no doubt he would eventually be able to discover his identity. He was still astonished that Pik hadn't been able to track him down after all this time. Pik...it had been fortunate for Madeleine that Pik had accompanied him to the cottage. Fouchon truly believed he could have hurt her in his rage, but Pik had jumped right in, more than once, and held him off. There had even been a serious threat in Pik's eyes, especially when Fouchon had tried to backhand her. Then, all at once, so many things clicked into place. Fouchon dropped his arms, spun, and leaned his back against the wall, looking up at the stars. Pik, all this time it had been Pik. Of course! Why else hadn't he been able to find the mystery lover? The way he had just put himself in harm's way on her behalf at the cottage. All the times he had seen them whispering together. And when he had dismissed the maid service, he had learned Madeleine had quit nearly two weeks earlier without notice, not two days as he had thought. He laughed out loud to the sky. _"That son on a bitch!" _he thought, _I'll kill him!"_ He walked quietly back the way he had come.

He waited silently outside the cottage, gun drawn, listening intently. There was nothing but silence, and he concluded they must have left already. He entered the living room, surveying the damage he had done. He hadn't seen them leave by way of the mansion, so he was positive they must have left along the back drive. He hadn't heard or seen a vehicle, so he knew they must be on foot. At least for the time being. He holstered the gun and flipped open his phone.

"Get your boys together, have them ready for target practice. Send half of them on the bikes up the back drive from the highway, have the rest go down the drive from the house."

"Um...Shouldn't Van Cleaf be the one handling this?" the puzzled voice questioned.

"Mr. Van Cleaf is the one you are looking for."

"Huh?"

Fouchon sighed, irritated. "Van Cleaf is traveling on foot down the back drive toward the highway. He probably has a car parked somewhere along the way. Do what you need to do to get a hold of him, but don't kill him."

"Mr. Fouchon, I don't think I und..."

"Don't think, idiot. Just listen. My daughter is with him. She is not to be harmed in anyway. Is that absolutely clear? Do you think you can handle this, or are you a complete moron?!"

"Yes, Mr. Fouchon. I mean no. I mean, yes, I can handle it."

"Then do it. I'll meet you there in my car." He headed to the garage to retrieve.

They walked hurriedly down the unpaved road, their hands clasped. Suddenly Madeleine stopped, yanking Pik to a halt. She looked back over her shoulder, but then began to walk again.

"What is it?" he asked her.

She stopped again, "I...I didn't bring my rings, we rushed out...."

"Hey, I told you I always think of everything. I got them earlier when you dozed off before the party. They're in my pocket."

He reached inside his front pants pocket and pulled out both of the rings.

"Here," he said, taking her hand, "we don't ever need to take them off again." He slid them onto her finger. Then he pulled a chain out from under his shirt. His own wedding band was threaded through it. He unfastened the chain and handed her his ring. She slid it onto his finger, and they stood there for a moment holding hands and staring into each other's eyes.

"Let's seal this with a kiss," he said softly and bent to kiss her. Their kiss turned deep and passionate, and his hands easily found her exposed thighs. He pulled her tightly to him and she felt something hard pressing into her just under her ribs. He sighed her name and his embrace grew stronger, but the hardness dug into her so painfully she abruptly pulled away from him.

"Ouch! What the hell!" she exclaimed, her hands under her ribs. Pik was truly puzzled. She felt a hard object through the coat, and reached inside. Her hands grasped onto hard steel, and she pulled out a revolver, its black metal glinting in the moonlight.

"I thought this was you," she said, giggling a little.

Pik chuckled a little himself. "Here," he said, taking it from her, "let me hang on to that."

"Why?"

"You never know...we might end up needing this tonight."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously....we're not out of the woods yet."

Madeleine glanced at their surroundings and said with a smirk, "Very funny."


	20. Chapter 20

**Blood Is Thicker...**

Chapter Twenty 

Ten minutes later and in sight of the Jeep, Pik paused, looking around in a state of alert, teeth showing through his clenched jaws.

"What...?" Madeleine started to say, but he silenced her sternly, his hand over her mouth, then readued the revolver.

Then she heard it as well, distant whining sounds ahead of them, sounds that were growing closer.

"Let's move!" he said and pulled her by the hand as they sprinted toward the vehicle.

Their flight was useless, the headlights from the motorcycles exposing them quickly, and they were surrounded. Pik stopped and smiled calmly. They faced several armed men, his men: Frick, Frack, Peterson, Jerome, Billy Bob, some more.

Raising his weapon in warning, Pik said coolly, "I thought I gave you all the night off."

One of them dared to answer. It was Frack. "Drop the gun, Van Cleaf," was all he said, but Pik could detect the lack of confidence in his order.

"Oh, I don't think so."

Pik's cool tone unnerved all the men, and they glanced around at each other uncomfortably. Madeleine was unnerved as well by Pik's demeanor, but she remained by his side in silence. He obviously knew these men, and knew what he was doing.

"Listen," Frack said with a shaky voice, "I got no choice. Fouchon wants to see both of you. So drop it and we'll wait for him to get here, real nice."

So, Fouchon had sicced Pik's own dogs on him. They all had their semi-automatic weapons pointed in his direction. If he had been alone, he would have begun shooting his way out, with a good chance of succeeding. He knew his lads well. But with Madeleine with him, he couldn't risk her getting caught in the crossfire.

"He wants you alive, Van Cleaf, but he didn't say I couldn't fuck you up first."

"I suggest you watch your language in front of my wife." Cold as ice.

Wife? Frack was not happy to be here. The girl was half dressed, but seemed perfectly willing to be with Van Cleaf. Whatever was going on, he wanted no part of it. He had been with Pik since the beginning, even before they had met Fouchon.

Just then Fouchon arrived, pulling up behind them in the Jag from the direction of the house. He was led by several more trackers on bikes. "Keep 'em on him, boys," he said as he walked up to the couple in the center of the circle. He stopped in front of Pik and pointed his weapon directly at his head, the barrel about two feet away. "Did you think you wouldn't get caught, screwing my daughter all this time, right under my nose? Did you get a rise out of that?!" He addressed both of them, "Did you enjoy making a fool out of me?!" Fury edged his tone. The men shifted nervously, uneased by the danger these two men at odds presented to everything around them.

Pik answered the charge, "You're making a mistake. It wasn't like that at all." His tone was deadly.

But Fouchon was beyond listening, "Shut, you son of a bitch! You had no right to touch her!" Eyes still on Pik, he held his hand out, "Let's go, Madeleine. This is finished."

She grasped Pik's arm firmly and drew confidence from his calm. "Papa, listen to me. It doesn't have to be this way. I can have both of you in my life."

"This discussion is over. Now let's go." He continued to hold his hand out to her.

"Please, Papa. I love him, and he loves me. We got married last week."

"Married?!" Fouchon said, incredulous, furious. Then with evil in his tone, "Love him? Do you have any idea who it is you say you love?!"

Pik squared his jaw, preparing to have Madeleine hear the truth about him and wondering what her reaction would be. Some of the boys began whispering to each other.

Fouchon continued, "Your _husband_," he said the word with loathing, "is a murderer, an assassin, a hired killer. People hire him to help them hunt homeless men for sport. It's what he does for a living, _and he enjoys it!!_"

Madeleine felt as if she'd been stabbed in the chest, but she looked over at Pik's face, and her devotion to him swelled in her heart. She answered her father in turn, "Is that so? It was my impression that the two of you were in business together."

Relieved she appeared to remain loyal to him, Pik smiled briefly at her, his eyes still dangerous, then focused back on Fouchon.

"Well, then," Fouchon said, "since you think you know so much, it's time I introduced you to the family business." He stepped out of the center and directed his instructions to the men. "Boys!" he shouted, "We're going to have a little target practice!" He looked around, smiling maniacally.

But Fouchon's rage was working for Pik, not against him. In his state of fury, Fouchon was unable to comprehend the situation. The dogs were Pik's men, to start with. He had trained them. They respected him, and were having a difficult time considering turning on him. Some were also terrified of him. It would come down to whoever they were more afraid of: Pik or Fouchon. Pik could see the lines being drawn even if Fouchon couldn't. He stared meaningfully at Frack, who nodded very slightly and stood between him and Fouchon. Frick joined him, and several more. The rest made a ragged formation between Fouchon and Frack's group.

Madeleine kept her ground beside Pik. She addressed the crowd, "This is a family issue, there is no reason for any of you to be involved." Pik admired her confidence at speaking to the fearsome-looking crowd of men. "My father does not approve of my husband." Her voice cracked slightly with emotion. "But we want to be together. So, please, don't interfere."

Fouchon's snarling face was so contorted in rage she could barely recognize him.

She approached Frack and whispered, "He's my father. Please, don't kill him."

"I'll do what I can, lady," he said back to her over his shoulder, and Pik pulled her back beside him. Then he said to Pik, "You and the lady get on outta here, Mr. Van Cleaf. It's been great workin' for you."

"I hope we meet again," Pik said sincerely.

"Yah, me too."

Then Frack shouted, "There ain't gonna be any target practice tonight, Mr. Fouchon!"

Fouchon appeared to roar, and everyone took that as their cue.

"You drive!" Pik ordered and they darted for the Jeep as the rounds began to fly.

The keys were in the ignition and she started it up. The back window was shattered by rifle fire almost immediately, and Pik climbed into the back and began firing out the open pane, glass crunching beneath him.

"Faster, faster, get the Hell out of here!" he shouted to her. She was terrified to drive so quickly on such a dark and wooded road, but she floored the gas pedal, praying silently that she wouldn't crash.

Pik could barely make out the motorcycles in pursuit behind them, and had difficulty distinguishing who was for them or against them. Pik smiled, realizing that they were actually blocking Fouchon's path to them. That is, if he was still alive. Some of the bikes were getting closer, and one pulled along the driver's side and fired toward the front of the Jeep. Madeleine screamed for Pik as glass flew inward, landing of the sleeves of the coat, but slicing her uncovered legs. The bullet had traveled through the windshield, leaving a hole and a spider web of cracked glass on the passenger side. Pik immediately pulled himself out the back window and fired over the top of the Jeep, hitting his target squarely in the chest. The man's bike tumbled over, and Pik could see that at least three other bikes and riders piled up into it. The pile-up slowed the pursuit and gave the Jeep a chance to put some more distance between it and Fouchon.

"Keep going Maddie! You're doing great!" he shouted to her. "When we get to the highway, stop and I'll drive!"

"Okay!" She eagerly awaited the appearance of the highway, teeth clenched and knuckles white.


	21. Chapter 21

**Blood Is Thicker...**

Chapter Twenty-One 

She slammed the brakes and her head received a good knock on the steering wheel. Pik was thrown against the back seat, but wasted no time in filling in the driver's seat once Madeleine had moved over. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows incredulously, "Who the Hell taught you how to drive?!"

"I'm sorry!" she said, "What do you expect?"

"Nevermind," he said. He sped north on the highway, but then exited and re-entered going south and drove back into the heart of New Orleans.

"Shouldn't we..."

"Relax, I know what I'm doing," he reassured. "Keep your eyes open to see if any of our friends are following us." He caught a glimpse of her bleeding legs. "Hey, are you going to be okay?"

"It looks worse than it is, they're just little cuts." She noticed tears in Pik's clothing and blood seeping through the rips. "What about you?" She was concerned but continued to scan to see if they were being followed.

"Nah, it's nothing."

"Where are we going now?"

"On our honeymoon, where else?"

"This is some honeymoon, Pik!"

"Hey, remember we were planning on leaving tonight anyway. I already have everything set up, okay?"

"Okay, just please get us away from here." She absently wiped at the blood on her legs with her hands. They were only small injuries, and had already started scabbing over. She wondered how many people had been shot or killed because of her this night, and if her father had been one of them. She thought about what her father had said about Pik hunting people, too. But she kept her thoughts to herself, and kept watching for anyone following them. She watched Pik's face as well. He seemed almost exhilarated by the evening's experience, and totally in his element.

At last confident they had lost anyone following them, Pik pulled the battered Jeep into a storage facility. Rows and rows of large concrete storage garages filled a massive asphalt lot. He stopped in front of one bays and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. So involved was he with his task that he nearly missed Madeleine's pensive state.

"Maddie, look at me, love."

She turned her face toward his. There were no tears, no accusation in her eyes. She seemed to be simply trying to comprehend everything she had just experienced.

He gently stroked her cheek. "Oh, Maddie," he whispered, "we can talk about everything once we're safely on our way out of here, okay?"

She nodded.

"Do you still want to come with me?" he asked, then cursed himself for giving her an opening to leave.

She nodded again, more quickly this time. He leaned into her, wanting to brush his lips against hers, but hesitated, afraid she would pull back. But she breached the short distance to where he had stopped, and welcomed his approach with her mouth and her arms and her heart. He broke the kiss and squeezed her tightly with relief.

He leaned his forehead onto hers and said, "We really do need to leave now. I don't want to take the chance of us getting caught out."

"Okay, tell me what I need to do to help."

They both exited the Jeep, and Madeleine held their bags while Pik unlocked the garage and drove the Jeep inside. He pulled the door down and locked it, then moved to the next garage and unlocked its bay door. He went inside and she heard him start up a vehicle, and she stepped out of the way so he could drive it out. When she saw it, she dropped her jaw. It was an old, beat-up-looking VW Beetle.

"This isn't exactly your style" she said to him after he rolled down the window.

He smiled broadly, "Exactly." She nodded in understanding.

"Where to now?" she asked.

Pik had to give it some thought. He had planned for them to stay in his flat in the city for the night, but he knew it would take a determined Fouchon only a few phone calls to find out about it. Switching vehicles would definitely throw him off the trail, but that would be useless if they were tracked down by morning. He hopped out, took the bags from her and ran around to open the passenger door for her. Still not sure exactly where they would go, he told her, "I think we'd better change clothes. We'll definitely attract attention looking this way."

They went inside the garage and changed hastily out of their tattered clothing, each wincing in turn as the fabric from their clothes rubbed against the small put painful slices in their skin.


	22. Chapter 22

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Madeleine looked sternly over at Pik when he parked as a bawdy-looking roadhouse.

"We need a place to stay for the night," he explained. "Wait here, I'll see if they have a room."

He returned a few minutes later and she followed him as he carried their bags around the back of the establishment and up a set of outside stairs. He showed her into a dimly lit room with a double bed and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling it's only embellishments. The sound of a man's and woman's loud, drunken laughter was approaching from the hall way, and Pik calmly closed and locked the door.

"Will we be safe here?" she asked him, looking around the lodgings uncertainly.

"Safer then someplace you father could track us down to." He set their bags down next to the bed and looked at his watch. "Let's get some rest."

She began to pull the coverings down on the bed when he stopped her, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why?"  
"This is the type of room that usually rents by the hour."

She quickly pulled the covers back up and wiped her hands off distastefully on her jeans. She watched as he opened his bag, put the revolver inside, and pulled out a different type of pistol. He tucked it into the back of his pants and lay on his side on the bed, patting the space in front of him. She curled up alongside him, and he nuzzled her neck with small kisses.

"I'm sorry about this room, but I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

"How?" She was beginning to drift off.

"It's a surprise. Now go to sleep." Pik didn't bother to turn the light out. They both fell into an exhausted slumber, fully dressed down to their shoes, oblivious to the merry sounds of revelry coming from the tavern below.

The morning sun woke Pik, and he looked at his watch again. He gently shook Madeleine awake, and she groggily tried to tidy herself as best she could using her small compact mirror and a comb. Pik opened his bag again, and showed her the passports that they would be using for a while. Their photos were attached, but the names were not theirs. Madeleine wondered how he so easily obtained such items, but decided not to question him about it.

"You're a real professional, huh?" she commented, looking over the ID's.

He smiled playfully, "I've been called that before. Now, it's time to go."

A short time later, Madeleine almost squealed as she threw herself back onto the soft, enormous bed in their cabin. A three-day cruise to Cancun, and then two weeks at vacation resort there after that, it would be an incredible honeymoon. She heard Pik asking the steward for a first aid kit.

"Is everything allright?" the steward asked. "We do have a doctor on board."

"A real doctor?" Pik questioned.

"Of course. Just dial 'star 18' if you need to speak with him."

"Thank you, I think I'll do that. But I would still like a first aid kit, right away."

"I'll be right back with it."

Pik turned to Madeleine, "Go ahead and take a shower first, it's too small for both of us in there."

Not long afterward, Madeleine was on her back on the bed, bath robe hiked up, wincing as Pik applied antiseptic and dressings to her injuries. Pik, also freshly showered, hovered over her legs, a towel wrapped around his waist. She could clearly see his cuts and scrapes as well, and mischievously looked forward to disinfecting his shoulder.

The little first aid kit was sufficient to take care of such a small matter, but when she was finished attending to him, he insisted they dress and visit the ship's doctor.

"What for?" she asked a bit childishly.

"You know. I want to make sure everything is allright."

But the infirmary had very little equipment as far as prenatal care went. The doctor performed a simple urine analysis to confirm her pregnancy, and said her blood pressure was slightly elevated, however, and that she should try to relax and enjoy herself. "Do you think you can do that?" he joked and she smiled back at him. Then he addressed Pik, but so Madeleine could hear. "From what she tells me, she is well over three months along. It's well past time she begins prenatal care...I'll send your wife's information to a physician I'm familiar with in Cancun, to help keep an eye on her blood pressure. But, as soon as your stay there is over, she needs to begin visiting an obstetrician."

"Okay, do you need to see her back here again?"

"No, not really, she seems to be doing perfectly fine. But do see my associate in Cancun."

Madeleine chimed in, "Oh, don't worry, we will."

But Pik still felt uneasy about the pregnancy, and the trauma she had just been through, she still seemed so exhausted. They had only two nights on the ship, and he wanted her to get all the rest she could. When it came time for bed, he simply pulled her up against him and held her closely. When she attempted intimacy with him, he halted her, reluctantly, and told her they would have to wait until they visited the doctor once they landed. Knowing it was useless to argue with him, she acquiesced, loving him more deeply for his concern.

After docking in Cancun, they carried their two meager bags into the immense hotel resort. Pik had arranged everything ahead of time, and Madeleine was thrilled with their suite. Enormous rooms, oversized tub, ocean view, and a closet filled with new clothes for both of them.

"Lunch is at noon, dinner is at six, and the entertainment begins at seven," the bellboy informed them while holding his hand out. Pik tipped him generously and closed the door behind him.

"Let's go, your appointment with Dr. Sol is in half an hour." He rushed her out the door.

"You are starting to be really annoying about this," she complained.

Truthfully, he was frightened beyond anything else he'd ever encountered. Even in times of danger, such as their flight from Fouchon, he wasn't scared, his adrenaline surged and brought excitement, not fear. But his wife's pregnancy and his own impending fatherhood were truly terrifying to him. He was utterly unprepared and clueless. It unease would have worsened had he known that Madeleine's own fears equaled his, but instead of pondering over it as Pik did, she simply avoided thinking about it.

Dr. Sol's offices were stationed in the hospital. She gave Madeleine a thorough exam and took her complete medical history, puzzling how she neglected to notice how late her cycle had been.

"I had a lot of stuff going on at the time, a lot of things on my mind," she tried to explain. She noted Madeleine's blood pressure had improved. Once Pik assured her money would be no object, Dr. Sol happily performed the sonogram herself right away. Pik was awestruck to see the black and white form of a tiny infant on the screen. Madeleine asked if she could determine the baby's gender, but the doctor informed them it wasn't positioned correctly for them to see. He pulled the doctor aside and almost shyly asked her if it was safe for a woman to have "marital relations" during a pregnancy. She was able to reassure him it was perfectly normal and safe for them to continue their usual habits.

"I can forward your information to your obstetrician immediately, so he will have your records as soon as your vacation is over," the doctor informed them.

"We...haven't decided on that yet," Madeleine admitted.

"We will be taking the records with us when we leave Cancun," Pik stated firmly.

"Very well. But decide soon. Here." She handed them her card. "In case your doctor wishes to contact me. Also, come back if you experience any of the symptoms we discussed."

They both thanked her and headed silently back to the hotel.


	23. Chapter 23

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"You look so sad," he said to her after they were back in their room.

"You don't seem very happy about....you know," she answered.

"You can't even say it."

"You're upset about it."

He sighed and led her over to the bed. He urged her to sit, then sat next to her, looking at the floor. He sighed again and said, "I was so ready for you, Maddie. From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. And I loved you before I even knew it. But I was ready, it was perfect. It IS perfect, what I feel for you. But this...a baby...I don't know how ready I am. I don't know what we're supposed to do, what parents are supposed to do." He detested doubting himself, his abilities. He shook his head dejectedly.

"I know," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I don't know either. But we'll be okay, we can figure it out, somehow..." but she didn't sound as if she was convinced.

He took her hand but continued to stare at the floor. An idea had tickling at the back of his brain, and he had ignored it. But it seemed he had no choice but to bring it up. "I don't think we should go through this alone," he was feeling a glimmer of hope. "I don't think we have to."

"What do you mean?"

He finally looked at her, "I think it's time you met your in-laws," he said, nodding.

She leaned back onto her elbows, a little surprised. "I thought you said you were disowned."

"I am," he smirked, "but it's all a big misunderstanding. I think it's time I straightened everything out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. It's time to go home. And this little one," he rubbed his palm over her stomach, "should not have to be born under a false name." He leaned down and kissed her abdomen. "Would you like to meet my family?"

"Our family," she corrected. "Now, I'm starving! You made us miss lunch with all your babbling at the hospital."

"Dinner's not until six."

"Well, isn't there a café we can walk to?"

"Let's just order room service." He smiled roguishly down at her. He felt comfortable at last, and tenderly stroked her face with his hand. "I've missed this so much," he said softly. "And I want you so much." He slid his had under her neck and lowered his mouth toward hers, teasing her lips with his.

"Oh, me too," she said and they desperately began undressing each other, eager for the hot sensation of the other's bare skin touching their own.

He continued lighting his feathery kisses onto her face, her neck, and lower still, just barely touching, and it was far from enough for her.

"Don't tease me, please," she begged softy. He gave in and took her mouth fiercely with his own. He moved off of her, and stood on the floor next to the bed, pulling her by her hips until her legs dangled over its edges. Positioned between her legs, he lowered himself onto his knees and heard her moan her delight when she realized his intent.

She delighted as his eager kisses make a path up the inside of her thigh, and she clutched the bed coverings with white-knuckled fists when she felt the moist heat of his mouth ravish her at last, bringing ecstasy of such surging intensity she cried out in near agony when he stopped.

His hot voice unexpectedly panted in her ear, "Wait for me, love," and he moaned aloud as he buried himself into her to the hilt. Each slow and deliberate thrust drew them together to the peak of rapture so blissful and consuming, Pik barely had the strength to stop himself from collapsing onto her.

Panting heavily, they crawled between the satin sheets, and he gathered her sweetly into his arms. He told her, "I'd say 'I love you,' but it's just not enough. You could never know how much you mean to me."

"I know, Pik, I see it in your eyes. Don't you see it in mine?"

He looked deeply into her eyes, "Stay with me always, Maddie. Always."

"I will."

Two weeks later, they boarded their plane using their aliases with no problems. During the long flight, Pik took Madeleine's hand and spoke in quiet tones to her. "I think I need to tell you about what happened, why I left my home."

"I'm listening," she said, clearly interested in her husband's mysterious background.

Pik's family had owned and operated a small textile plant in Broederstroom for several generations. It was a labor of love for Pik's father and older brother, Owen. It never held much interest for Pik himself, and he basically let Owen run his share of it without interference. But Owen loved to gamble, but wasn't very good at it. Several years ago, he had lost continuously and had, over several months, failed to repay the bank for loans he had taken out against the plant, using the money to pay his debts. The discrepencies eventually caught up with him. The Van Cleafs were about to lose their family business and their good name. Owen begged Pik to take responsibility for the embezzlement. No one would be surprised if it had been him, and Owen was positive that, since they had been "robbed", albeit by a family member, their insurance company would cover the loss. Pik agreed, unconcerned that his dark reputation would turn a deeper shade. However, the only way the insurance company would cover the loss quickly enough to prevent foreclosure was if formal charges were filed against Pik. Before Owen could explain anything to their family, Pik was disowned by his father and thrown out of their home with only the clothes on his back. Even his military service record, although slightly smudged with a few "responding to authority" comments, could not be used for reference because of the outstanding warrant attached to his name. He traveled around, ended up in South America, and began earning a reputation as a mercenary and general man-for-hire.

"Is that when you met my father?" she asked.

"No, not for a while yet."

"How did you end up from that point to your....'business arrangement'....with my father?" She said it distastefully.

"Maddie," he began, looking directly into her eyes, "the moment I put that wedding band on your finger, that 'arrangement' was over, that 'business' was over. That was not the way I wanted to live my life with the woman I love."

"And the moment I gave myself to you, I told you nothing would ever change the way I feel about you. I meant it. I believe you when you say that life is over."

"Still," he continued, "I wish I had done it sooner, so you wouldn't have had to see some of that life with your own eyes."

She changed the subject back to his brother, "So, what are you going to do when we get to Pretoria?"

"Well," he began, "you may not know this, but your father was, er, is, a genius with investments. With his father help, actually, I've invested very wisely and done very well."

"I can tell," she said, thinking of their expensive honeymoon.

"Well enough that I can repay the insurance company, with interest, what they had to pay for the money Owen had taken. Then they might agree to drop the charges. But only if Owen agrees to tell the truth."

"Do you think he will?"

"Oh, I can be very convincing," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagined his brother's face when he saw him. "Very convincing."


	24. Chapter 24

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

After landing in Pretoria, they rented a vehicle and drove to Broederstroom where they took out a hotel suite. It had been over ten years since Pik had been in his homeland, and although there had been a great deal of growth, he knew his way around well. He tracked his brother home from the plant offices, and decided he would confront him the next day when he came home for the day from work.

Pik kept himself inconspicuous, but Maddie delighted in shopping and visiting the public library to learn about this town and South Africa in general. She poured over advertisements for doctors and medical clinics, wondering which one they should choose. Pik assured her that his mother would be able to give them some direction, once they were able to get in touch with her and his father. The thought of meeting his parents agitated her, imagining another long-lost child returning to the fold. It was too similar to her own recent situation. He told her his situation would be much different. He hadn't always had the best relationship with his father, but admitted he had also quite frequently caused him great distress with the mischief he had caused growing up. He had missed them, and his brother as well.

"I'm coming with you," she insisted.

"No, you're not," he said.

"This pertains to me too, you know. Your life affects my life. I want to be there. Besides, my presence might convince him he should come clean."

Pik clenched his teeth at her strong tenacity. But it had been that particular trait that had brought them together in the first place. "Okay, but let me do the talking."

"Yes!" she chirped.

Early the next morning, Pik and Madeleine watched Owen leave his home. But instead of heading to the plant, he headed into town and entered a building housing law offices. Puzzled, they looked at each other, and decided to wait to see how long he would be inside. The time stretched into three hours. Madeleine grew uncomfortable and Pik restless, and they drove the nearby streets and actually parked and walked around for a while to break the monotony, giving them a chance to quickly eat in a nearby café. At last, Owen exited the building, walking hastily to his car while wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. Back on the move, they followed him as he drove back out of town to his home. It appeared he wouldn't be going to the offices that day.

"What do you think's going on?" she asked Pik as they stared at the house from across the street.

"I have no idea. I hope he didn't just lose the plant...Well, let's do what we came here for," he said as he exited the car and opened Madeleine's door for her.

Pik boldly walked to the front door, pulled out a pocket-knife type tool and used a slender rod from it to expediently pick the lock, and he just as boldly walked in, with Madeleine at his heels.

Owen looked up suddenly at the pair and froze when he recognized the face of his brother, a face very much like his own, only younger, and harder. He'd been holding a glass half full of Scotch, and all at once finished it.

"Pik.." he stammered.

"Hello, Owen," Pik smiled evilly at him. He wanted him to squirm under his glare for a while.

The emotions on Owen's face changed rapidly. Surprise, relief, guilt, confusion...He looked back and forth between Pik and Madeleine several times, then stood and approached them.

"Pik," he began, struggling for words, "I...I'm so glad you're here! You won't believe what's just happened!"

Pik turned his glare to his wife, perturbed that Owen appeared relieved and almost happy to see him. She shrugged and turned to Owen, "Well, let's hear it."

"Wh-who are you," he turned to Pik, "Who's this?"

"This is my wife, Madeleine. Madeleine, my brother Owen," sarcasm belied the polite introduction. "Owen," he continued, "I came here to settle an important matter of which I am sure you are familiar."

Owen was staring wide-eyed at Madeleine, but he directed his voice to his brother, "That's what I have to talk to you about."

Pik was getting impatient. His brother was excited about something, but Pik's and Madeleine's presence were distracting him. He grabbed him by the lapel of his suit and pulled his face inches from his own. Owen in turn grabbed onto Pik's coat and pleaded, "Pik, listen to me. It's all over, the charges have been dropped!"

Pik released his grasp with a shove, and Madeleine cleared her throat, "Gentlemen," she cast a warning glance at Pik, "I will fix you some drinks so that you can _sit_ and discuss this." Owen wasted no time handing her his glass and resuming his previous seat. The men accepted the drinks she made from the corner bar and swallowed heartily from their glasses. "Start from the beginning, Owen," she urged.

He did...he told them he had been instructed to meet that morning at the law offices concerning the matter of his brother. There were representatives there from the judicial office, as well as their insurance company. A solicitor informed them all that on behalf of his anonymous client, he would repay the claim, plus interest, to the insurance company for what they paid out those many years ago after the "theft," under the condition that the charges against Pik would be dropped. The insurance company balked, but the solicitor showed them several documents explaining that his client could own their company by the end of business that day, and they could soon be unemployed. The men had looked over the papers, mumbled a bit, then agreed to the deal. The company accepted the payment, and the charges officially dropped. Owen took several papers from his briefcase and handed them to Pik for his perusal.

Pik was stunned. "Who was the 'client?'"

"You've got to believe me when I tell you I practically begged the solicitor to tell me. Nobody knows, nobody. Whoever it was, they don't want to be found out. But does that matter? It's over!"

"Not completely, Owen, and you know it."

"But when we show these papers to Pa, he'll put it all to rest."

"Owen, it may be over legally, but there never should have been a legal issue against me in the first place. Let's bring this matter to a proper close."

Owen squirmed, "Damn it! Okay. Let's go. Pa's retired now, he and Ma are at home. He's going to kill me."

"I'll protect you," Pik smirked. But his eyes turned serious as they loaded into Owen's car. He wondered who had arranged this deal. It could have been his father, trying to put the matter to rest. But although the plant was well established and had kept the family well enough off for decades, he knew his father wouldn't be able to come up with that kind of capital. He supposed he would simply have to ask him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

The three arrived at Wit and Dora Van Cleaf's home shortly thereafter. Madeleine followed behind Pik and Owen as they entered through the front door. Pik's parents were seated at a small sun room table, and apparently had just finished lunch. Upon the surprise of seeing his youngest son in his home, Wit stood so abruptly that the table was jarred, knocking over their glasses and centerpiece.

"What the Hell is going on?!" he shouted to Owen. Dora had stood just as abruptly, but covered her mouth with her hands, barely choking back her sobs as she brushed past Wit and ran to Pik, throwing her arms around him.

Wit and Owen began speaking at the same time, their volume increasing as they competed to be heard. Pik kissed his mother on the cheek and told her, "Ma, I need to get some things straight here with Pa and Owen. Why don't you talk with Madeleine here while we men deal with this?"

"Madeleine?" she asked, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Yes," Pik indicated to her with his hand and said quietly, so as not to give more fuel to the uproar of his father and brother, "this is Madeleine, my wife." Just then Owen grasped Pik's elbow and pulled him into the melee.

Dora pulled Madeleine off to the side to a sitting area and, holding both her hands in her own, smiled warmly at the young woman. "You're my Pik's wife?" she asked.

"Yes, and I am so happy to meet you." Madeleine replied through a choking lump in her throat. She could clearly see how much the woman had missed her son.

"Please, Madeleine, tell me what's going on. I know you can without shouting," she glanced to the trio of men, who were still talking all at once.

"The charges against Pik have been dropped," she answered.

"That is wonderful news," Dora said.

Madeleine cleared her throat nervously, "But the thing is, they never should have been filed against Pik in the first place. It was Owen who took the money. I'm sorry, I know you've always felt he was responsible. But Pik was just covering for him. Neither of them ever thought it would become a police matter."

Dora, still clasping Madeleine's hands, nodded her head, her lips taut. The women glanced over to the men, and it appeared Wit had finally settled down enough to let Owen explain. He stared, ashen faced at Owen, "It was you, all this time?'

Pik had to ask, "You have to tell us. Was it you? Are you the one who had the charges dropped?"

"Don't you think I would have done that years ago if I had that kind of money?!" Wit said angrily. He spun back to face Owen, "Son, don't you realize what you've done?"

Pik interrupted before his father said something he would regret, "Pa, it's over. You know I was going to leave home soon anyway..."

"But not that way..."

"I know, but listen, it's behind us now. Don't do to Owen what you did to me. I survived, I'm fine, I did allright, and I'm very happy. This," he held his hand out to Madeleine again, and she stepped forward, "is my wife, Madeleine. We are going to be parents in a few months and we want you, all of you, to be a big part of our child's life."

The mention of a baby brought forth another cacophony of voices...congratulations from Wit, bragging over his own children from Owen, mothering from Dora.

It was decided Pik and Madeleine would stay with Pik's parents until after the baby's birth so they could take their time finding their own home. Wit and Dora's bedroom was on the ground floor, so the younger couple would have a great deal of privacy in the rooms on the second floor. Five months passed by quickly, and Madeleine grew to love her in-laws and Owen's wife and two children as if they had always been part of her family. They welcomed her warmly, although they were puzzled that the disobedient, capricious Pik they had known had managed to find himself such a charming wife. Pik enjoyed suddenly becoming an uncle, and through playing and caring for his niece and nephew, his confidence grew that he just might be able to handle fatherhood. He had the assurances from his parents and brother that his wife was under the care of the best obstetrician in the area. But it was always there, picking at the back of his mind, that someone had paid a great deal of money on his behalf to clear his name. It kept him restless in spite of the domestic security which surrounded him. He spent time getting to know his brother again, and the pair spent much time together at the plant. Pik was genuinely interested in all Owen had to tell and show him, but he rankled at the prospect of settling down to run the family business. His own personal investments were strong enough to take care of them, probably for the rest of his life, but Pik was not one to rest on his laurels. He would have to find something to do so as not to lose his mind to boredom, but he didn't think helping his brother run the textile plant would fit the ticket.


	26. Chapter 26

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Jason Van Cleaf came into the world, after an overly long and painful labor, red-faced and screaming angrily for all who had ears. He had a thick thatch of dark hair, and he seemed so tiny to Pik, although the doctor assured him he was in perfect health. "Oh, you did real good, Maddie. You did real good," was all he could get past the lump in his throat as he held him for the first time.

Madeleine was content to stay in the hospital an extra day. The birth had taken a great deal out of her and she was still exhausted. That baby simply had wanted to stay where he was, and seemed to fight her every effort to push him out. Baskets, balloons, flowers and gifts filled her hospital room. And one unsigned gift in particular brought a chill to her skin. "Pik..." she began hesitantly after she had examined it. He was busy gathering several gifts together so he could take some of them home that evening.

"What is it?"

She showed him a small velvet-lined carved oak box. It contained an infant's bowl, cup, plate, fork and spoon, all in pure silver. An etched silver rattle had been tied among the ribbons as well. It was a beautiful set, but the sentiment reminded her of the vanity set her father had given her on her birthday. She told Pik her concerns.

He said, "I'm sure it's just a coincidence," but left the room immediately. Soon after, and it was no surprise to Madeleine, she learned she would not be getting her extra day of rest in the hospital.

"I'm not saying I believe your father sent the gift. I just don't like the idea of someone sending such an expensive present like this and not leaving a card. It doesn't sit well with me."

They were settled into his parents' home within hours, and Pik remained highly agitated for weeks, constantly on alert for anything out of the ordinary. He could not let himself believe Fouchon had been able to follow their trail to South Africa, he had been so careful. The incident with the silver gift set and the dropping of the charges were long enough in time apart to be unrelated, but Pik felt they were linked.

Eight weeks had passed, and Madeleine at last felt her body had recovered from the trauma of childbirth. Jason had grown strong and healthy, and Pik was no longer nervous handling him. Madeleine was thrilled to learn all the mothering she could from Dora, and was also gaining confidence in the area of parenthood. They offered to purchase the home next door to Pik's parents, and the deal was almost complete. It was time to celebrate, and as Jason slept, Wit and Dora were downstairs with Pik while Madeleine finished showering. It was to be the first time the two of them went out alone since the baby's birth, and Jason's grandparents were happy to sit for them while they enjoyed an evening of fun together.

Anxious to get their evening together underway, Madeleine sat in her robe at her dressing table and vigorously began rubbing her hair dry. Flipping her wet hair back, she reached for a comb, but snatched her hand back when she felt cool silver. She pushed her hair from her eyes and stood, gathering up the silver brush, comb and mirror all together in her hands. Trying to swallow through her suddenly dry throat, she turned the mirror over to its back to find the "F" monogram she knew would be there. The items slipped from her hands and seemed to fall in slow motion to the hardwood floor, shattered glass splintering out over it.

"Jason..." she barely croaked out and ran barefoot into her son's nursery. She halted just through the doorway when she saw her father turning from the window to face her, Jason cradled gently in his arms.

One hand over her mouth and the other held out toward them, she walked slowly in their direction. "Please, Papa, don't hurt him."

"Hurt him?" he asked as if he didn't know how disturbing his presence there was to her.

Pik had heard the thump on the floor and breaking glass, and had unhurriedly come up the stairs to see if Madeleine needed any help. He heard the voices coming from the nursery and walked in on the scene. He pulled his wife protectively behind him and instinctively reached to his side for a firearm that hadn't been there in months. Madeleine's fingernails dug into his arms, and he could hear her breathing rapidly. His own pulse throbbed in his ears.

"You're getting soft, Pik," Fouchon commented, noticing his reach for his weapon. "It doesn't suit you." Jason rested contentedly in the crook of his grandfather's arm, and tightly grasped Fouchon's index finger. "If it's any consolation to you, I came here unarmed as well."

"Put him down," Pik said coldly.

Fouchon's only compliance was to seat himself in the stuffed rocking chair. He looked back and forth between Pik and the baby and said, "I think he likes me, don't you?" He jiggled his index finger so the baby would cling to it more tightly. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt him. He's my own flesh and blood."

"Then why did you follow us all the way here?" Pik asked.

"Follow you? Why, Pik, you flatter me. You're the tracker, not I. I did know, however, that this is where you would eventually end up. I arrived here before you did." Fouchon's voice was sweet and mellow for the baby's sake, but he had heard his father's voice and began to fuss for him. Fouchon stood and gently handed him to his mother, who pulled him closely to her chest. He nonchalantly sat down in the chair again.

"Take the baby and go," Pik ordered coolly to her, keeping his eyes on Fouchon.

She stood her ground. "Papa, are you the one who had the charges dropped against Pik?"

Fouchon feigned humility, "Well, I couldn't leave my son-in-law with a warrant against him."

"You know damn well there are plenty of warrants out against both of us." Pik retorted.

"Of course, of course. But not in your real name...the name you gave my daughter...the name you gave my grandson."


	27. Chapter 27

**Blood Is Thicker...**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Pik appeared to wait for Fouchon to make some sort of move against him or Madeleine, but he had so easily given Jason to her when he cried.

Fouchon broke the silence, "Madeleine, would you mind leaving me with your _husband_ for a while? I have a few things I'd like to discuss with him."

"Pik?" She awaited his response.

Pik answered her, "Why don't you wait with Jason in our room. There's no need to alarm my parents."

"Are you sure?" she worried.

"Go on, Maddie," he answered.

After she quietly slipped down the hall to their room, Fouchon began to speak. "We've known each other a long time, Pik. We were good together. It would be a shame to bring that all to an end."

"It is at an end," Pik answered.

"Is it? Is it, Pik? Tell me, how long do you think you can stay happy in this....domestic cliché? How long before your lust for danger and adventure starts to tear you from them? Till you resent them for what they took from you..."

"Enough!" Pik roared, but he knew there was truth in Fouchon's words. He had both loved and resented his brother and parents for years, and hated the thought of feeling that way about his wife and child.

"That's enough," Pik repeated, quietly. "That life is over."

"Yes, yes, it wasn't suitable to carry on that way any longer once Madeleine came into the picture, much to dangerous. I realized that, almost too late, when those lads of yours started firing at both of you when you jumped into your Jeep."

"They were fresh, they didn't know they picked the losing team."

"Well," Fouchon grinned, "they're not so fresh anymore."

"What are you here for then, just say it." Pik nearly raised his voice again.

"I want my business partner back, and my daughter."

Pik told him, "You mistreated her, you nearly gave her a nervous breakdown. As for me, I've retired."

"Retired, you say." Fouchon continued scathingly, "Seems to my you've been spending a great deal of time at the ancestral family textile mill."

"What else would you have me do. I have a family now."

"As do I, and I would like to keep it. Take a look at this." Fouchon pulled a poster bill from inside his coat. It was a "wanted" poster for a fugitive, with a reward posted. Fouchon spoke as Pik perused it, "The reward is inconsequential, of course, nothing like we used to make. But this character is here in this country. His last known whereabouts is Durban. That's not too far from herel"

"Are you suggesting we become bounty hunters?" Pik asked incredulously, but he felt his heart race at the thought of a hunt.

Fouchon replied, "Are you suggesting you continue to work at the family mill?" He paused, and then stood and walked toward Pik, excited. "We can do this, Pik! We can work from here, or move from time to time. Most of your dogs are alive and well, we only lost a few that night, they could work for us."

Fouchon went on, "Madeleine can be our business manager, we can run our own agency, free lance, of course...bail enforcement, fugitives, who knows?! Some are even wanted 'dead or alive.' Pik, we can be great at this. As great as we ever were. And it would be the legitimate this time, ridding the world of people like us."

"You've certainly put a great deal of thought into this." Pik said, genuinely intrigued.

"There are many details we'd need to iron out, and certain countries we would have to avoid alltogether, of course." He held his hand out for Pik to shake.

Pik accepted his hand. "Of course," Pik began, "But what about Maddie? The way you treated her?"

"Yes, what about 'Maddie,'" Fouchon said, and swung a left hook at him, which connected solidly with his jaw. Pik, stunned, fell backward but Fouchon, still firmly gripping his hand, pulled him upright again and steadied him. "That," said Fouchon, "is for Madeleine, for going behind my back the way you did. With my daughter, under my own roof. I owed you that." He began to pump his hand up and down to continue the handshake, and Pik returned the shake while rubbing his jaw with his other hand.

"I guess I'll give you that one," Pik said, "But are your going to change as far as Maddie is concerned?"

"I really do need to talk to her," Fouchon replied.

She dressed slowly, applied her cosmetics and worked on styling her hair, even knowing dinner with Pik was off for the night, and wondering what the two men were discussing. Jason was resting on the bed, propped up by the pillows. She had carefully picked up the shards of glass and placed them on the face of the mirror, and set it along with the comb and brush on her dresser. One of the most tender moments she had shared with her father was when he had given her that gift, and she regretted she had broken it. She was relieved to know for sure he father was alive, and knew it had been him who gave Jason the silver dish set as well as paying off the insurance company.

She also knew her husband, and knew her father was right...he wasn't the white-picket-fence type. She knew he would love her, but she was realistic enough to know he could resent her at the same time. She had seen the excitement in his eyes that first day he had dragged her into that alley. Even she had to admit their escape to the roadhouse that last night in New Orleans had been a bit of a thrill for her. She had heard the beginning of the conversation on the baby monitor, but had turned it off when her father began tormenting Pik about working at the plant.

Several minutes later, the door opened slowly, and to her surprise it was not Pik, but her father who entered the room. He sat beside her on the bed and held her hand. "I've made a lot of mistakes," he began. "I've told you before, I am not a very nice person. And I've told you before, I'd like to start over with you. But this time, I want to do it right. I know I'll mess up, and I'll probably try to control you like I did before..." They both glanced up to see Pik leaning in the doorway. "But Pik here will help keep me in check. And you too."

"Do you mean it? I won't be swallowed up by you like I was before!" she asserted.

"Madeleine, I want to know you, really know you and be a part of your life. And Jason's too. He's so incredible."

"Thanks, I know...I'm...I'm glad you weren't hurt...in the woods that night. I really am."

"You had asked Frack not to kill me. And he made sure that didn't happen, out of respect for you and Pik."

She stood and pulled him up to embrace him, and he gently stroked her hair. "I love you Papa, and I want you in my life, too. I know we can make it work." She stood back and looked to Pik. "So, where do we go from here?" she asked.

Pik stepped all the way in the room. "We," he indicated Madeleine and himself, "go to dinner. You," he indicated Fouchon, "go to where ever it is you are staying. But come back tomorrow evening at six, so you can meet the rest of the family, properly. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Now, why don't you go out the way you came in?"

Fouchon kissed Jason on the forehead, Madeleine on the cheek, and slid past Pik out into the hallway.

In the hours before dawn, Pik pulled Madeleine closely to him, their skin was damp with sweat after their lovemaking, and he raised the soft quilt up over them to keep off the night's chill. They were both exhausted from talking all night about Fouchon's new business idea, and their intimacy had been a welcome distraction, but they again returned to the subject.

"What about when Jason's ready to begin school? We can't be moving around then," she asked.

"I'm sure we'll all be ready to settle down for a while by that time."

"Do you really think you will be?"

He pulled her closer, "I know I will be. I really love what Owen has with his family. I just need a little while longer to settle into it. Besides, we can eventually run the agency from here, and have the men who work for us do the legwork. Not right away, of course."

"Of course."

"Are you sure you're allright with all this, Maddie?"

"It's who you are, Pik. It's who I fell in love with. And this seems like a way you can have the best of both worlds....Do you really think my father will change?"

"He wants his family, too," Pik explained, "and I guess he's realizing the blood is thicker than water, or money, or his pride, or anything else that would keep you from wanting him in your life."

He rolled on top of her and took her mouth with his, whispering, "Enough talking about this, we have better things we can do with the night."

She wrapped her arms around him and welcomed his kiss, but stopped and asked, "One more thing, what are we going to call this new 'business' of ours?"

"That's an easy one," Pik said, "'The Professionals.' Now, not another word until I'm finished with you." His mouth traveled down her neck, and she arched into him.

"It's a deal," she sighed.

**The End**


End file.
